The Destiny of Souls entwined
by LoveMe1010
Summary: He thought he had found peace, until a single piece of paper throws his whole life back into turmoil! You can try to run from your past, but you can never escape your Destiny...
1. The letter

**Hi everyone! I hereby proudly present my first PhanFic ever, it's been getting some wonderful reviews on Aria and now I put my fate entirely into your hands...Enjoy, and please review! It's much appreciated! -x- Lotte.**

_ Paris, le 25 ième Février 1876 _

_Monsieur, _

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. Paris has grown to be a dark and sinister place. Friends are scarce now that the brave men and women of the Opéra Populaire seem to have scattered to all corners of the continent, searching for new employment. I'm sure you have heard of the sudden departure of our loyal manager, Monsieur Gilles André? Found in his home with a rope around his neck, and for the first time in many years, they did not have you around to blame. His partner Monsieur Firmin has abandoned his futile attempts to sell the Opera House and has now started an impressive reconstruction project, no doubt financed by his lovely young bride. He is planning to restore the Opera in her full splendour, and draw the loyal crowds back in. He has enquired if I would know of the whereabouts of the original building plans, but I have sent him a negative reply. How is he to comprehend, my dear friend, that most of those drawings exist only in your mind? _

_But I will not try your patience with these idle reports. I have a more important request to make of you. One that might unleash your eternal rage upon me, I am fully aware, but from my bleeding heart I hope you will indulge me none the less. It concerns my dear child and your former protégée, the Comtesse de Changny. I immagine you are aware of her husband's death this last cold winter. Her very sanity it seems, has since followed him to the grave. She does not eat, she does not sleep, she has abandoned all her friends claiming she has no desire for company save that of her dearly departed. She roams the cemetary for hours on end in thought and prayer, seeking an absolution that I fear will never come, for sins not committed. _

_Monsieur my heart fears, should no one come to her aid, she will soon remain at that dreadful place beyond eternity for she seems very poor indeed. Her eyes have lost their spark, her skin its brilliance, her body its voice. Allow me to speak plainly mon frère. Christine de Chagny needs her guardian, her mentor, her Angel… or she will be beyond any mortal salvation before long. I beg you to return to us and deliver her from sorrow, should your proud and wounded heart allow it. I ask you as a friend, a sister, a sorrowful mother. _

_I will pray for my pleas to be heard and rely solely, my friend, on the goodness I know your heart possesses. _

_Your most obedient servant and affectionate friend, _

_Marie Giry. _

The serenity of the Palazzo Persico was rudely disturbed by the breaking of glass. Renzo Barbari quietly entered the library, and without a word started to clean up the fragments of crystal that before had formed a lovely decanter filled with a very fine brandy. "Such a waste", he pined the loss of the sweet liquor.

"Renzo, start packing when you are done!" He was shaken from thought by his master's voice, filled with frustration and anger.

"Prego Maestro. Where will you be traveling Maestro, and how long will you be away?"

It took a while before he received an answer. " Paris. As short as possible. The sooner I can leave that Hell Hole, the better. And you will come with me."

Renzo's heart started pounding heavily. he had never left Venice in his life and now he would be accompanying the master, to Paris no less!

"Hurry Renzo, I have no desire waiting about!" Renzo quickly got to his feet, and turned to nod at his master, only to find he had already left the room…


	2. Down Once More

The journey was long, but peaceful. There had not been much rain, and the nearer they came to Paris, the harder the ground was. The frost that had long left Venice still lingered here and it made Renzo shiver. Paris…city of elegance, of fine music and theater, of fashion and good food.

"You believe to find things in Paris Venice can not offer you Renzo?" The master had noticed his excitement. Renzo bowed his head and said nothing.

"Do not allow yourself to be deceived by a shimmer, my boy. Even a whore in fine clothes is still a whore. She will seduce and betray where she seems fit…"

His words had come out quite bitter and he immediately cursed himself for not controlling his anger, spitting at his young servant for no reason. He had just cause to be exited, it was his first trip abroad! He sighed and closed his eyes. Why had he decided to come here? Was it the letter? Was it the despair of his beloved friend and sister? Or was it the long and never ending yearning that he had managed to control, but never fully kill, to look upon her face once more? The maddening realisation that no matter how he fought, no matter what remedies he had been seeking, she would never leave him be. Haunting his sweetest dreams and darkest nightmares, until his worst fear had now come true. All the happiness that should have been hers, that should have kept him at ease knowing his decision had been for the best, had deserted her and had brought her to the very edge of sanity. It would not do. He would not allow it!

It was growing dark as Marie Giry heard a loud and decisive knock on the door of her small but comfortable town house. She wrapped herself in her dark shawl, and carefully opened the door just far enough to see what she had most prayed for. A tall man, dressed impeccably in black silk, the white leather of his mask the only distinction between him and the dark streets. He looked, as she had expected, quite put out.

"Madame, am I to be a guest in your house, or would you prefer me to return to the warmth of my Palazzo? Lord knows I would gladly make the decision for you!"

Quickly she opened further, allowing him to enter, and after she checked to see no one but his carriage waiting outside she closed the door behind them. They sat silent for a while, as she poured them both a glass of wine.

"You are well, I trust?" The tone of his voice had soothed again, as if the warmth and safety of her home had calmed him.

"Very well indeed, I thank you. The Baroness de Valoix seems very pleased with the progress I am making at her Collège de Ballet. My darling child has become engaged of late, to a Monsieur Valmont. He is a tradesman, and a good soul. I believe he will provide her with a happy and comfortable life."

"I congratulate you, Madame. I am happy to see you escape the nightmares of the Opéra Populaire..."

He drank his wine in silence before looking up at her again. "Now, tell me all that your letter has not yet revealed."

Marie Giry sighed. He had come, and his initial anger seemed to have passed. They were off to a good start. "The union between the Vicomte and his wife has been...civil to say the least. I suppose to the outside world they seemed to be everything lovely and happy and elegant. But I received letters, Monsieur. Letters of the Comtesse that worried me. She was not accepted by the Vicomte's family, not being a noblesse. She was walking on glass, so to speak, to perform according to their expectations. The Vicomte would ask her over and over again what had happened to her while she was living at the Opéra, but she would refuse to speak to him of it. She would write to me of nightmares, haunted dreams from the past. She wrote how all her Angels had abandoned her and how she was looking for forgiveness for her wicked ways. She believed the...wrath of our Lord was keeping her from giving the Vicomte his so desired heir. She remained a loyal wife to the end, nursing him as the typhoid fever got to him, until the doctors pulled her away from him in fear she would fall to it herself. It was to no avail, the Vicomte died in no less then a week. Chateau de Chagny was covered in black veils where Christmas lights should have been."

Her voice died as she remembered that awful week, the grand funeral, Christine wandering around the Chateau in an almost comatose state. She looked up to find him frozen in his chair, shielded from any emotion as if he fought against the facts presented to him and the images associated with them.

"It was not a week after the new year when the Vicomte's cousin, a Francois de Bonneville arrived in Paris. Should the heir to the title of the House of Chagny die without an heir, Monsieur Francois was the next in line to claim the title and the Chateau. He did both. He even tried to win Christine's favor for a while, but to no avail. He ultimately branded her "out of her wits" and only allowed her to remain at the Chateau as he found it improper to turn a young widow out on the streets. From that moment on her letters stopped, my only chance of meeting her was to go to the cemetary myself and even there she would not speak with me. She would linger endlessly between the graves of her father and her husband, praying for their forgiveness. If only you could hear her frantic prayers, Monsieur!"

"Enough!" He stood up so briskly that the chair flew to the ground.

His voice had once again turned to ice. "I have not let her leave my guard only to end up in a grave. Oh yes, how she would love to find her peace there, but I will not allow it!"

Realising his composure, he calmed himself, his breath still trembling with fury. "Stupid, insolent girl...Christine, what have you condemned yourself to..."

Marie Giry had backed away from him in fear, but realised her plea had found a willing ear. "Please act how you see fit Monsieur. I hope you understand I found myself with no other choice then to write you. I fear there is no one else who can even begin to comprehend the depths of her sorrow...except for someone who has been to those depths and has returned from them."

He paced about for a while, thinking out his next move.

"You do understand...If I were to take her back in my care, it would mean she would leave Paris on the shortest possible term. It might mean you would never see her again. Are you willing to surrender your precious Christine to me, Madame?"

Her answer came as quiet and resolute as had all her decisions been, at her days at the Opéra. "I would happily never see her again in my days knowing she was safe and about in this world, my friend."

He nodded. "God be merciful on me..." It was no more then a whisper, but she had caught it. He had decided, and she was grateful for it.


	3. Finding Christine

Nicole Lambussy quietly walked into the small, but comfortable sitting room on the east wing of Chateau de Chagny. It was starving cold there at this time of day, and in this season. She started to light a fire knowing, or rather hoping, the Comtesse would soon return and would no doubt be frozen to the bone. She looked outside, hoping to see the first rays of sunlight, but to no avail. Today would be another somber day with no help from mother nature to help warm the otherwise chilled chambers in the Comtesse's quarters. It had been a most logical and clever decision from the new Vicomte to place her in these quarters, she thought.

"If the cold won't drive her out in time, she will surely be ill and die of the humid atmosphere, you bastard!" She had softly whispered it about the room, and was scared out of her wits to receive a reply.

"I take it then, you and the Vicomte are not the best of friends, ma chère?"

The voice was dark and cold, with a razor-sharp sarcasm drowned in it. The anger however, seemed to be directed more to the subject of her thoughts, as to herself. She pulled her shawl closer around her, as she turned around to face whomever it was had addressed her. From the shadows of the room she noticed a tall man, impeccably dressed, studying her every move and reaction as he slowly approached her. As he stepped into the light of the fire, she saw it. The elegant mask, covering half his face. Could it be? She had overheard the arguments between the Vicomte -God bless him- and his wife, speaking of the masked figure who used to haunt the Opera House. Could they be the same?

"You are...?" It sounded more as a demand than a question.

"Nicole, Monsieur. Servant to Madame de Chagny, Monsieur." She quickly curtsied and turned her eyes to the ground, fearful of his stare.

"Madame? So, Monsieur Vicomte has even stripped her of her title."

Nicole quietly shook her head. "It was Madame's decision, Monsieur. She requested me to address her as Madame de Chagny after her husband had died. She said she had never felt to have deserved the title in any case, Monsieur."

Wandering through the room, he seemed hardly to listen at all. "Would you be able to tell me, Nicole, where I might find Madame de Chagny at this Godforsaken hour? She seems not to be in her bed."

Nicole was shocked at the thought that the gentleman had obviously entered the lady's chambers, but decided it safer not to enquire.

"There is only one possible place she could have gone, Monsieur. The cemetary. I trust she will have returned in an hour or so for breakfast."

A sad grin appeared on his face. "Why would a lady so adverse to feeding herself have any interest in returning for breakfast, Nicole?"

She knew he was right. "I don't know Monsieur...I suppose each day I simply hope for her to wake from her nightmares and return to her usual ways..."

He suddenly seemed hasted, pacing about quicker until he stopped quite abruptly right in front of her, lifting her chin to observe her fervently. She thought she would faint under his stare, but suddenly she saw his eyes turn warm, content with what he saw.

"Fool that I am I have taken it upon me to help her do just that. It will however require Madame to leave Paris, leave France entirely. And at the shortest term possible."

Nicole held her breath, then nodded. "I will start packing her belongings if you wish it, Monsieur."

He shook his head. "Clean sleets Nicole, we will be burning all ships. Anything that reminds her of her days here, will stay here."

He was about to turn when she softly touched his arm. "Monsieur...what of Mademoiselle Céline, Monsieur? He turned around at her, and she could tell he had no idea what she was referring to.

"Madame's daughter, Monsieur?"

It was as if he fell through thin ice, the cold waters below piercing his heart.

"I was informed the Vicomte had no heir?"

"Not a boy, Monsieur, thus no heir to his title. But Madame bore him a girl three years ago."

His mind was racing, he could not possibly force Christine to leave without her only child but the thought of bringing her, HIS child, was more than he could bare. He looked back at Nicole.

"Have you ever traveled abroad Nicole?"

Surprised, she shook her head. "Ma non Monsieur, I have never traveled further than from Paris to this estate!"

"If you will, you may accompany Madame de Chagny to her new home. I will need all my energy for her, I cannot spare time for an infant!" He had spat out the word, as if the very thought of bringing the child revolted him.

Nicole quickly decided. "I love the child...and Madame de Chagny, Monsieur. It would be my honour to continue my service with her."

"With ME, then." he corrected her. "Very well, pack whatever you may require for the journey...and the child. Quickly. I will send my man to you with my carriage. Expect to leave within the hour."

He had already turned to leave, but returned just as quickly.

"And not a word to anyone!" Nicole quickly shook her head, petrified by his sudden rage, curtsied and quickly went to work.

The snow at the cemetary had only been treaded by one, at such an early time. His large footsteps covered the smaller ones he was following, even though he knew exactly where they would lead. The place where her heart lay, where he himself had shed blood for her by the hand of that arrogant fool! She had his child...SHE HAD HIS CHILD! The thought was tormenting him.

"Of course, you idiot! What had you expected? De Chagny marrying her and then leaving her peacefully in her innocent state?"

He grinned, the fool had of course wanted and heir, but received none. How Christine must have suffered for it! He slowed his pace when he heard a trembling, whispering voice not far from him. A horse quietly walked about on the spot where its mistress had left it. He could see the Daaé tomb ahead and in front of it a small dark figure.

Quietly he approached, as her mumbled prayers became clearer to him. "Father I have come to beg forgiveness of my trespasses, forgive me my wickedness, forgive me my dark thoughts, forgive the betrayal of my husband, forgive the betrayal of my guardian, I beg you return my Angels to me. Give me peace of mind, take away my nightmares, show me your mercy, guide me through my darkness, give me my Angels again or let death come as a friend."

He felt rage and pity attack him simultaneously. "You would leave your dear child to herself then, to wander the world in fear without her mother's guidance?" A fate he himself knew all too well and would never wish upon another!

He noticed her stiffening to her very core. Her breath became troubled, as if choking, as she slowly stood up. He could now see the change in her. Her frame was even more petite as he had remembered it, her chestnut curls, once so happily ordaining her blushing face, tied back in a braided knot.

"This is a dream, this is not real, you cannot be real, this is all a dream, you must wake up Christine!" he heard her whisper.

"Why so silent, ma Comtesse? Did you think that I had left you for good?"

His whispered voice brought a sob from her throat, as she started turning around at him. Her eyes were red and weary, shooting from one side to the other like a cat driven into a narrow street. Her once rose cheeks were pale and it was obvious indeed that she had not enjoyed a proper meal for some time. A pearl of sweat lay on her brow and she shivered top to toe, indicating to him she was already running a fever. Combined with her difficult breathing he concluded she must have caught a severe case of pneumonia. How could it be otherwise! No food, no rest, wandering about in the freezing cold and damp!

Slowly he walked towards her, as she continued her feverish whispers. "You are dead... you died that night...from the fire...Raoul told me so...you cannot be here!"

He brought his face so close to hers she could feel his warm breath upon her skin.

"I assure you, Madame de Chagny, I am very much alive. Unfortunately for your dearly departed husband, I am not so easy to kill. How can I die, when neither heaven nor hell will have me?"

His last words were hissed in such rage, that she could no longer support herself. She stumbled away but two paces before fainting...


	4. Let me be your shelter

The carriage made its way past the muddy roads of southern Europe. It had not been difficult to leave Paris, at least not so as anticipated. Renzo had brought around the carriage to Chateau de Chagny, and had simply informed staff and family alike that Madame de Chagny was to go and live with her remaining family in the country. The Vicomte had graciously accepted his story, happy to rid himself of her in a sociably acceptable way. Raoul's mother, still alive, had heavily protested against the departure of the child, but Renzo had assured her Christine would not leave without her and she would be well taught by the country's most excellent governesses. In truth, no preparations had been made whatsoever. He had no idea what he was going to do with her. In the end, he had decided to send Renzo ahead with a key and a money belt.

'Take the money and buy whatever needed to provide for such a child. Prepare one of the guestrooms as her own, with an adjoining room for her nurse (meaning Nicole). This key unlocks the Secret Chambers, they are to be readied for Madame de Chagny. The less staff goes there, the better. I trust you and Franca to know your business..."

Renzo raced his horse across the fields, his heart pounding at such an assignment! He held the keys to the Secret Chambers, the part of the Palazzo where no one but the master had been. There had always been rumors of a lost lover, back when the master still lived in Paris, and suddenly Renzo knew deep down that all of it was true and that the lady in question was now being brought home!

Whether Christine would actually arrive in Venice alive, was something the passengers of the carriage seriously feared. Nicole sat quietly in her place, cradling the child who had luckily fallen asleep. Fate it seemed, had bestowed on her her mother's looks. A wild bunch of dark curls peeking out from underneath her small hat, and a pair of inquisitive hazel eyes, that had curiously wandered in all directions before finally landing on his face. He had expected the child to back away or cry with fear, however she had not. Nor did the journey seem to bother her much, enjoying every minute of it and crying out at each cow or sheep she saw along the road, tilting her head in laughter. The only thing she did not seem to comprehend was her mother's silence. Her nurse had whispered at her that maman was very tired and needed to rest, but she had looked at the sky and babbled. "But there is no stars!"

Nicole had been shocked to find her mistress in such a state, claiming that though pale, her fevers had not been noticeable the evening prior. This gave him some hope that the disease had not yet spread far. Giving her some medication to make her at least sleep peacefully throughout their journey, he had lifted her in the carriage where she was now sleeping in the warm comfort of his cape. His closeness to her was surely not proper under normal circumstances, but Nicole was too tired and too scared to even mention it. She had no idea who this gentleman was, where he had come from, or how long he had known Christine de Chagny. When she had dared ask him for their destination his reply had been brief. " Italy. Venice. My Manor."

Franca Barbari hastily crossed the long corridor to the place she would normally never venture. This part of the Palazzo, near the master's own chambers, had come to be known among the staff as "Le Camere Segrete", the Secret Chambers. Master kept it well locked and shielded from the world, and would sometimes spend hours on end in them. No one knew what the rooms contained, or why master was so keen at keeping them hidden, but there were rumors the Chambers were a lament, a tribute to a long lost, but never forgotten lover. The man was a brilliant architect and a very accomplished musician and poet, but no woman had ever been permitted into his life or his domain. Franca shook her head, how she had wished for her master to find love, perhaps it would shed some light on his dark ways, and shield them all from his sudden bursts of outrage! And now her brother had returned from Paris, with his money belt and his keys, breathlessly relating to her his story. Master was returning from Paris, he was perhaps one day behind, bringing with him a Contessa and her child, as well as her lady's maid. All must be accommodated for, the Secret Chambers were to be opened! Franca had stared at him.

"He brings home a child? He knows not what to do with a woman in this house, let alone a child!" Renzo tried to give her a scolding look, but could not help but smile.

"I believe his intentions were for the woman alone, but plans seem to have changed. That's why I was given the money. The child has a nurse to care for her, a very pretty one at that, but we need clothing, food, toys for her to have. Maestro was in such an urge to leave quickly, there was no time to pack anything at all! And the lady is very ill, I hope she will survive her trip or we will all have hell to pay for!"

And so there she was, in front of the locked door. She carefully turned the key, the lock was very smooth as if used often. What she beheld inside was beyond her immagination. The chambers had been delicately decorated, to suit a noble lady's every need!

Walls covered in the finest silk, ceilings painted in light soothing colours and images of the heavens and angels, angels all around. A sitting room with a small but exquisitely decorated pianoforte awaiting its musician in one corner, a wall cabinet filled with books, sheet music, theater plays on the other end. Wandering through to the next room she discovered a bed filled with the softest pillows, sheets of the softest satin, closets filled with breathtaking gowns for each occasion...

Franca let out a sigh. To find a man who loves you so dearly he would create all this for you and you alone. But she knew she had to hurry. If the master was indeed so close at arriving, she wouldn't have much time and the last thing she wanted was for him to find her spying about! She drew back the curtains and opened the windows to let sunshine and fresh air into the rooms. She turned back the bed, only to notice it had recently been slept in...She thought she could see the outlines of dried tears on one of the pillows, but decided it safer not to dwell on the thought for too long. There was nothing more she could do, the chambers had been so impeccably kept, without a maid ever coming there! She turned around, walked out of the rooms and locked the door behind her, ignoring the curious looks from the maids she encountered in the hallway.

Where to put the girl? She decided on an ensuite room on the far end of the hallway. This way the nurse could easily reach the child, the mother could visit as often as she wanted, yet the room was far enough from the master's chambers as not to wake him should the child cry at night. She could not immagine his reaction at being deprived of his sleep by an infant! The room was somewhat dark, but in the short time she had left it would have to do. After preparing the room to be inhabited, she ran to the market square to purchase the requested items. A few teddybears would surely brighten the rooms dressed in dark greens and blues!

Later that evening, just as dinner was being prepared, the master's carriage arrived through the main gate. Renzo and Franca both ran outside to meet the weary travelers, but before they could reach the carriage they were already met by their master, walking past them in grave silence, carrying a ghostly figure in his arms.

"Renzo, my keys. Now!"

Renzo hurried after his master, after quickly looking around towards the carriage. Franca understood his message. As she turned around she noticed a pale, blond girl making her way from the carriage all by herself, cradling a small child. The child looked very sleepy as if rudely awakened in her slumbers, rubbing her eyes while curiously looking around. Franca could not help but smile. what an angel! She approached them, happy she had learned some French from the master's books for she doubted the girl would speak any Italian.

"You must be the lady's maid, yes? You have come to take care of the little signorina?"

The girl nodded at her happily, and curtsied shortly.

"I am Nicole...and this is mademoiselle Céline de Chagny."

Upon hearing her name the little girl looked up at Nicole. Suddenly in her sleepy weariness, an outburst of tears came.

"I want my maman!"

Nicole and Franca both ran to hush the child, realising it would be some time before she would be reunited with her mother.


	5. Her Angel once more

He could not remember how long it had been since he had had his last night of sleep. It was now at least a week since he had received that cursed letter, that had sent his whole life into turmoil. Again he was wondering why he had ever allowed himself to do what he did. "Weakling!" his spirit shouted. "She will leave you as soon as her legs can carry her again! She will not love you, she chose against you! She bore another's child!" And yet, every time he looked over at the bed where Christine was fighting against her feverish dreams, he could not help but cry for joy. He had found her in time. He was her Angel once more. She had begged, prayed for him to return and so he had. He would see her well and happy even if would mean the ruin of him.

The sun calmly rose over the rooftops of Venice, bringing the promise of a beautiful spring day, as Franca softly knocked on the door to Christine's room. When she received no reply she cautiously walked in to find the lady in peaceful slumber and her master in a chair by the bed, drifting in and out of sleep, waking at her slightest movement.

"Maestro?" She softly called out, keeping at an appropriate distance from the both of them.

"Good morning Franca. Please come in." He sounded...different. Sleepy but friendly, not at all irritated by her presence.

"How is your lady, Maestro?" Wrong.

"First of all, Franca, Madame de Changy is not MY Lady! You would do better to remove that thought from every feverish brain in this household at once!"

She shuddered, but immediately heard him return to the honey-sweet voice from before. "Her night was relatively calm, but her lack of breath worries me. Instruct Dottore Romani to visit us as quick as can be."

Franca nodded, happy she had not fallen out of grace.

"I will send a message immediately Maestro. Anything you might need...some food perhaps? Truly you look very poorly this morning!" Her usual wittiness had taken over, standing before him arms crossed as the mother of a large family.

"I have no need for anything, just for the lady to heal. I would appreciate it if you would take her under your care Franca. These servant girls...they remind me of those Ballet Rats at the Opera House. Always talking too much for their own good. Madame de Changy has had to deal with many losses lately and is in a very fragile state. I need someone around her I can trust." Franca fell silent at such a compliment.

"I...of course, Maestro. I will tend to her as well I can." He gave her a faint, but tired smile.

"Thank you Franca. Remember, you are not her maid, you report directly to me. Madame is in no state to make any decisions right now, let alone instruct you!"

She curtsied and was about to leave when he called her back. " Franca...I trust the child is well accommodated?"

Franca smiled. "She is at the end of the hall, Maestro. Her room is somewhat...sober for such a small child, but it will do. She has a good nurse looking out for her. But she misses her mother dearly. She is too young to comprehend why she is kept from her."

He just looked at her blankly, vaguely nodding at her words. Christine stirred in her bed, vaguely mumbling names and phrases that did not seem to match up. A nightmare was on it's way, he could tell. He shot towards her bed, putting a cool cloth to her forehead, whispering soft consolations. Embarrassed, Franca tiptoed out of the room to call for the Dottore...


	6. Awakenings

Faces...voices...night and day seemed to dissolve each minute until she had no reckoning of what time it would be. She remembered the cemetary, his raging eyes, his breath on her skin..."neither heaven nor hell will have me!"...it was all her fault, she knew it! She remembered his arms, a potion. "Drink this my angel, you must heal" and then a sweet dark oblivion of time. Hands carefully lifting her from her bed, touching her...lungs have taken quite a beating...must try to eat...plenty of rest...lucky to be found...

Suddenly she woke. A soft stream of sunlight tickled her face. She did not sit up immediately, but let her eyes wander the room. She was not at home, this she knew for fact. Home was cold and dark and quiet. This room, so full of light, the fragrance of flowers...she heard church bells chiming not far away and people speaking and laughing in a foreign language. It was Italian. She recognised it from her beloved Opera's. Carefully, she tried to sit up, feeling it was useless. He body was far too weak to support her. Suddenly she heard a friendly voice beside her.

"Buongiorno, Madama. You are awake? Maestro will be pleased! Here, let me help you."

She felt two gentle hands lifting her to a sitting position, carefully tucking the pillows around her. For a moment the world seemed to spin around her, but then her vision sharpened and she beheld the face of a woman in her early twenties, smiling encouragingly at her.

"What day is this? Where am I?"

"It is March, Madama, the tenth today. You are at Palazzo Persico, home to my master il Signore Alighieri."

Alighieri...the name meant nothing to her. Palazzo...there was only one place in the world where a manor was called that way. Venice!

"How did I...I don't know Signore Alighieri, how.." But at that moment she felt her breath leaving her lungs and she started coughing uncontrollably.

Franca held her, shushing her. When the worst had passed, she walked over to a small table in the middle of the room to pour out what seemed to be a cup of hot tea. Chamomile, she could smell it.

"Maestro received a letter one night, from Paris. I don't know what was written in it, but that same night he left for France, and not one week later, now five days ago, he returned, with you and your darling girl."

Her heart skipped a beat. her darling girl, Céline! "My daughter, my child, how is she, I long to see her, please bring me to her, I beg you!"

In her confusion her French was too quick for Franca to understand. She looked at her puzzled, but then seemed to understand what Christine had meant.

"I understand, Madama, but my master forbid it. You have been very ill indeed and have yet to recover a great deal. Until you are strong enough and the Dottore is certain you will not infect the child with your disease, he will not let you see the child."

Christine felt tears coming to her eyes, sad to be deprived of Célines smiling face and angry that someone else dictated what she could or could not do.

"Have your master meet me here at once, I wish to explain to him that he has no power over me! Who is he to decide when a mother can see her child?"

Franca, again struggling to follow the lady's quick and angry French, backed away from the bed. She remembered what her master had told her. "The lady is in no condition to make her own decisions, you answer only to me, directly to me."

"I'm sorry to upset you so Madama, but seeing that my master is the person who just saved you from death I suggest you might reconsider your opinion of him. He is now away for his work in the city, but I will inform him of your request when he returns."

And with that, she left Christine to her tea.

That evening when Franca related her dealings to her master, he could not help but smile. "La Madama must feel a lot better, flinching at you like that Franca. I will pass by her room tonight, until then, let her pout. She is in no position to state her demands right now."

As he spoke the words he suddenly realised how well that felt. Christine back under his control, nowhere to go and too weak to run from him...On the way to Christine's room, he passed the Nursery. He still had to get used to the idea that his house now actually had one. Without knowing why he knocked and entered, finding Nicole there with the little girl, trying to get her to eat. The maid shot up from the chair she'd been sitting in, and carefully curtsied at her new master. He walked in, never taking his eyes of the child who was enjoying a piece of apple on her plate. She was the mirroring image of Christine! The girl looked up at him, again without any form of fear or doubt and smiled at him. "Bonsoir!"

He leveled himself to her height. "Bonsoir, ma petite mademoiselle."

Suddenly she seemed to remember that this was the gentleman who took her mother away, and she pouted at him. "I want my maman!"

He could not help but run his hand through her disorganised curls. "Your maman has been very ill. She was in a lot of pain and had to cough very badly. She has to sleep a lot to get better so she can come and play with you."

The little girl listened very carefully, mesmorised, as was Nicole, by the man's deep, warm voice. "When maman is no longer sleeping, she will come play?"

He smiled at her. "She will. Until then you need to be patient and do as Nicole tells you." At that he turned to Nicole, who was caught gazing at him intently.

"I trust she is giving you no troubles?"

Nicole smiled. "We are adjusting very well Monsieur. Our chambers are very well accommodated indeed..."

Suddenly she could not help but ask. "Pray tell me Monsieur, how is Madame? I have such worries for her!" Tears were burning to her eyes, and she could feel his stare once more. He was obviously still deciding how trustworthy she was.

"She is recovering very well, Nicole. We were very fortunate to find her when we did. But she has lost much of her strength and must still recover greatly. Both in body and in spirit."

Nicole dried her tears. "That is such wonderful news, Monsieur. Thank you." With that he turned to face the child once more, who was now fully focused on her food again, and walked away.

In her room, Christine had managed to make her way to the balcony. Franca had brought her some food, and had helped her to sit by the table to eat it. From there, it was only a little further to the end of the room, but Christine felt her legs were still trembling from the exercise. She tried to remember all that had happened of late, but all that sprang to mind was that surreal moment at the cemetary, when suddenly HE had arrived. After that, all was black. Why was she here, who had brought her here. Alighieri... the name sounded familiar somehow. Was it someone she had known from the Opéra? She felt a soft breeze coming in from the window, it was salty from the sea nearby. The sea...once again in a house by the sea. Where she had met Raoul...where life had seemed so wonderful and her father would make sure that no harm would befall her. But father was gone, and Raoul was gone...made their way up to the heavens like the angels at the ceiling she had been staring at all day. Who would protect her now? Like an answer to her question, she suddenly heard that familiar voice behind her again.

"And why, pray, are you not in bed? Are you so determined to leave this earth that you wish to catch another cold?" The voice made her shiver. It was him. She could have known. He was with her before she fell into darkness...and here again to wake her from it.

She turned around to face him, suddenly realising she wore no more than a nightgown. As always he read her mind. Without a word he reached out in her closet and presented her with a beautiful, silk dressing gown reaching down to the ground. He walked over to her and wrapped the fine cloth around her before proceeding to close the balcony doors and closing the curtains. All the time she had stood mesmerised at seeing him again. He looked well. Tired, but well. Tall and strong, impeccably dressed, and always that determined yet unreadable look on his face.

"How are you feeling?"

His voice shook her back into reality. "I don't know. Better I suppose. I am still not aware of what has happened with me."

"You had gotten yourself a dreadful pneumonia with all your wandering around the cemetary. By word of your friends I reached you in time and brought you here. A combination of excellent doctors and a much warmer climate have done the rest...for your physical health that is."

"My friends?"

He smirked at her. "Surprised you still have any Madame? Your beloved Maitresse de Ballet perhaps? Or had you not realised that despite your attempts to shun her, she has continued to look after you as a mother would?"

She closed her eyes, trying to shake his angry words from her. Madame Giry. How she had missed her.

"And my daughter?"

"Mademoiselle Céline is in perfect health, her nurse informs me she eats very well and is anxious to see you."

Christine felt her tears growing on her. "Why then, do you keep her from me?"

It took him a while to answer, he seemed off balance by her sudden tears. "When your health permits it, you may see her as often as you wish. For now, are in no condition to raise a child my dear."

"Don't patronize me!" As he turned to look at her he suddenly seemed to recognise a spark in her eyes he remembered from long ago.

"My father, the Opera managers, Raoul...it was always "my dear" this and "my dear" that! I am no longer a little girl. I am a woman and a mother and I believe I can very well judge what is best for me and my child!"

While she spoke she felt the air leaving her lungs and before long her coughing had made it near impossible to breath. Within seconds she felt him picking her up and carrying her over to the big bed, allowing her to sit up and regain her strength.

"You do not wish me to treat you as a child. very well. I will hand you the adult manuscript then. Do you expect to lead by example by sitting around on a graveyard, wishing for death to come get you while your child is playing at home, awaiting your return? Do you expect anything good to come from your life by wandering through the empty halls of a Chateau that is no longer yours, living at the whims of a baboon who stripped you of your title and your dignity?" She shunned away as his voice became more and more angry.

"I gave up everything to see you happy in this life, and how have you repaid me? This denial of life itself is a far worse betrayal to me than not answering my love! You ask why have I brought you here? To give you your life back, so that I may move on with mine. Goodnight, Madame de Chagny!"


	7. Setteling in

Days passed, and she saw no more of him. She knew this from the Opera. He would not be so easily persuaded to come by again. She had asked him for honesty and he had given her honesty. And so she sat alone, pining his words, reaching the same conclusion over and over again. he was right. She was so determined to be treated as a woman, a wife, a Comtesse, an adult...but she wasn't. Inside she had remained the pitiful, pouting chorus girl who never got what she deserved.

"You seem unhappy, Madama. Can I get you anything?"

She tried to smile. "No thank you Franca, I simply have a lot to think about."

Franca looked outside. "Would you perhaps care for some fresh air? The weather is warm and gentle, and Dottore Romani did say fresh air would help restore your lungs."

Suddenly the idea warmed Christine to no extend. "Could I Franca? It would be so good to feel the sun on my face again!"

Franca smiled and walked over to the dress cabinet. Christine had forgotten completely about it, since that evening that he had presented her with the beautiful dressing gown. She carefully walked over, and discovered a complete wardrobe. Her reaction was as shocked as Franca's had been. Evening gowns, day dresses, skirts and blouses, everything was there! All of it was new, nothing had been brought from the estate, this she immediately noticed. Quickly she chose a blouse and skirt. To her shock, Franca started dressing her with no corset to wear.

"Do you really want to let your lungs suffer any more as they already have, Madama di Chiangi?" Christine couldn't help but laugh at the girl's determination, and the lovely way she pronounced her name.

As they made their way outside, Christine finally had a chance to look around the Palazzo in amazement. Palazzo Persico, of course. The Persian Palace. It suited him. Everything looked as impeccable as he did himself, polished to perfection. The colours, the paintings, the furniture, everything in a perfect harmonious balance. The garden was situated in between the different wings of the Palazzo, a central square.

A blend of plants and flowers grew in perfect patterns, and without even looking she knew what she would find in it's centre. There it was, a perfect rose hedge. Not yet in bloom but already forming thick buds, yearning to be touched by the sunlight like herself. She gently touched its delicate leaves, not knowing she was being watched from an upstairs window. How much better she looked. Still pale, not very strong, but her eyes showed a curious glitter and her cheeks a healthy rose that he hadn't seen in a long time.

"Nicole!" he turned around to where the girl was reading a book to Céline. "I believe our little Céline could do with some fresh air."

And so it came to be that while sitting in the sun, her eyes closed at its soothing warmth, Christine suddenly heard quick footsteps and a trembling little voice. "Maman, maman, you've come to play!"


	8. No longer mine

"And with that kiss, the prince awoke the beautiful Aurora from her eternal slumbers. She had been saved from the evil curse placed upon her. What a feast their wedding was! There were princes and princesses from all over the country, and beautiful fireworks, and the wicked witch was banished to her dark castle, to live alone and learn from her wicked ways, never to bother mankind again..."

As she was reading the story to Céline she realised she would never read fairytales as she had long ago. She had come to learn life was not made out of fairytales, and the beautiful people always seemed to win. For the wicked witch was never pretty, and never loved...

"Madama? Scusi...I bring a message from the Maestro." Franca stood behind her, hesitant to break up the happy moment between mother and daughter.

"Yes, what is it Franca?" She breathed in deep, not wanting Franca to notice how much she had longed to hear from him.

"The Maestro bids you join him for dinner this evening. He will expect you in his chambers at eight." Expect...apparently this was not an open invitation. He was summoning her. Still, she longed to speak with him, and nodded.

"You may tell him I will join him as soon as Céline is asleep."

And so there she stood, in front of the vanity, twirling around, nervously fringing a loose curl. She had decided on a soft cognac coloured evening gown, beautifully decorated with champagne coloured embroideries. Her hair was put up with small diamond pins, leaving some room for her curls to jump out into her neckline. She bit her lips and rubbed her cheeks, scolding herself for her sickly composure. Still, it would have to do. She quickly turned around, making her way to the corridor. As she passed through her sitting room she once more realised how exquisite her living accommodations had been prepared. This could not have been done over night...these rooms had been patiently awaiting her arrival for a long time. As she walked into the nursery, she found Nicole attempting to put some humility to Céline's curls, wet from their bath.

"It is hopeless, Madame! This head refuses to be tamed!" She laughed at her own attempts as did Céline.

"It's alright Nicole, when it reaches more length we can pull it from her face. Till then... well I doubt any suitors will be coming for her any time soon!"

She gave Céline a firm look. "And why, pray, are you not yet in bed?" She suddenly remembered it had not been too long since someone had spoken those exact words to her. "Go on now, say your prayers, ma chère!"

Céline rushed to the side of her bed, kneeling and folding her little hands in front of her. "Dear Father in heaven, watch over our souls as we lay down to sleep, let us wake to a new..." "and blessed" helped Christine, "and blessed day, watch over grand père and papa with you in heaven, amen."

Christine crossed with her before kissing her fervently and tugging her in bed.

"Goodnight my angel."

"Goodnight maman."

As she walked to the door, she heard Céline call out to her.

"Maman!"

"Yes, my sweet?"

"I like it here maman! It smells nice here!" Christine smiled, Céline's room had honeysuckle growing just outside her window.

"But it is so dark at night..." She saw the little girl pouting.

"It is only the darkness of night Céline, it is nothing to be frightened of. If you are good and go to sleep like a big girl, I will allow Nicole to leave the candle on for you."

Céline smiled at the idea. "Bonsoir maman." and with that she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to convince Christine she was making every effort to fall asleep as quickly as possible. Once more the sleepy voice rang out to her.

"Maman?"

"Céline?"

"You look very pretty maman!" And with that, she started making her way across the hall...

Renzo gave a quick knock on the door before quietly opening it. "Madama de Chagny is here, Maestro."

Apparently he received some sign of approval from inside, for he gave Christine a friendly smile before inviting her to step in through the large mahogany doorway. This was the first time Christine entered his chambers, but it felt familiar. Many accents in the decoration had been brought from Paris, and it made her feel slightly more comfortable. The table was richly set, both in tableware as in dish. The doors to the balcony were opened behind the thick burgundy velvet curtains, and the sounds of Venice street life vaguely drifted in. On the other side a fire had been lit as to ensure she would not be cold during dinner.

By the fire she saw him, staring into the flames as if uncertain to turn around. When he finally did, upon hearing Renzo closing the door, he stood in awe for a moment. She looked well. The dress was as fine on her as he had immagined it a thousand times in his dreams and her face, though pale, seemed to shimmer with a pleasant warmth in the soft light of the fire. For some reason she curtsied at him. It felt right, as if starting a new acquaintance. He did not return the gesture, but slowly started walking in her direction.

"Your daughter is comfortable in her new surroundings?"

"She is very well, I thank you. She seems to have taken quite a liking to Venice."

He did not reply, but invited her to the table with a simple gesture of his hand. Ever so much the distinguished gentleman, he helped her to her seat before sitting down himself.

For a while they just sat there, not really certain of how the conversation should proceed.

"I wanted to appologise, for raising my voice at you the other night. You were still very weak and unaware of the events that had befallen you during your illness. It was not my intention to upset you any further."

She lifted her head from nervously looking down at her hands. "And what did you say to me that I did not deserve? I asked for your honesty and you gave it to me. You...found me in my deepest despair and I may safely say I owe my life to your return to Paris. You came to my aid when you had every right to deny me, and I'm eternally indebted to you for it."

Again the silence. Her words had convinced him she had indeed grown, the Christine he knew before would not have spoken so wisely.

"How do you find your accommodation? I trust you have everything you require at hand?" He had changed the subject very abrupt.

"It owes a beauty beyond anything I've ever known, Monsieur. I am indeed very comfortable. I enjoy the warmth of this place, of the city, of its people."

He seemed relieved to hear it and much lighter by heart, he commenced his dinner. She followed his example, happy she was saved from speaking any further for a while.

"Why Venice?" Her question had come so abruptly it nearly caused him to choke on his food. "Madame?"

"Why have you come here?"

"It seemed as good a place as any. The climate, the food, the people. I had the opportunity to continue my work as an architect here and I took it."

"I was very sorry to hear of your husband's departure." Now it was Christine's turn to gasp for breath. Of course, she could not have immagined that subject would not be raised at any moment, she just hadn't expected it to be this night.

"I shall not pretend to mourn him, for I hate hypocrisy of any kind. I do realise however that his parting has caused you great grief, which saddens me." She did not know what else to do but to thank him for his...condolences? What other word could describe his attempts at conversation.

"The Vicomte at least must have died a happy man, knowing to be loved by his beautiful wife and...daughter." He suddenly noticed Christine did not reply.

"I am sure the Vicomte must have been proud to be sent such an angel from the heavens?" Before he saw her upset tears he had guessed the answer. The Vicomte had not been pleased at all.

"What would you wish to hear me say, Monsieur? My husband wanted a son. Expected a son. Prayed for a son every night. And had to make do with a daughter. A girl who would have no significance to the House of Chagny, no rights to his title, no continuation of his bloodline. He did not desire nor welcome her."

Her voice died away as if the words had tightened her throat and made it more difficult to breath. She had expected him to make a sneering remark, confirming all his warnings of Raoul before their marriage. However he did not. As she looked at him across the table, defiantly, daring him to shoot at her willingly, she noticed tears had come to his eyes. His stare was full of pity and disbelieve.

"How...could one receive such a gift from our Lord, such a picture of perfection, such loveliness...and deny it?"

He had wished for this child. How he would have welcomed her had she been his! She could read it from his face. She suddenly realised that in the short time they were in his house, he had come to care for Céline dearly and it flattered her. At first he had wanted nothing to do with her, being Raoul's child. She suddenly remembered his words to Raoul on that dreadful night. "Why would I make her pay for the sins which are yours..." Would he think the same of Céline?

Suddenly he stood up from his chair. "I believe it best for you to return to your quarters, Madame. You still have a long road to take towards recovery. I would not want you to strain yourself too much as yet."

She knew very well his dismissal of her had nothing to do with her weak health. She could tell from every word and every gesture he was about to lose his composure in his anger for Raoul, and he was not prepared to do so in her presence.

"Christine..." He looked up at her and by the expression on his face she could tell that he was very tired. His breath had quickened, as if the sound of her name had unleashed emotions too deep to handle inside of him.

"Christine...why won't you call me by my given name as you used to? Why this cold politeness between us?" As she spoke, she realised she had made a mistake.

"You are no longer mine to have, Madame. I am no longer at liberty to be on a level of equality with you. You married, you brought his child into this world, and now you are forced to mourn your loss. Please allow me to do the same and no longer beg me for more than my devoted friendship. My heart will not permit it." With this he bowed, and was gone from the room.

Christine ran to her chambers, gasping for her breath to return, feeling cold and empty inside. She had lost her Angel and found it wounding her deeper that the loss of her husband had ever done...


	9. The Contessa and the Architect

No word came from him for days as she had expected, and she learned from Franca that the Maestro made long hours of work. He had been commissioned to provide a new design for the Basilica Santa Maria Formosa, which had burned down in a most unfortunate fire at mass, now two years ago. The structure now stood, but still required much work both interior and exterior, and the Maestro took extensive care in following the process of labour, seeing to it that every detail was being carried out exactly as he had designed it. Christine smiled at the memory of endless rehearsals, his voice ranging from soothing to scorning, making sure each note escaping her vocal cords was like sugar to his sensitive hearing. If his dedication to architecture displayed the same feverish search for perfection, it would become a structure beyond anyone's immagination indeed.

"Three weeks have I now been here, have I not Franca? And all this time I have not had the pleasure of being about town. How I wish to see it!"

Franca herself had noticed the gloom in Christine's composure and inwardly she scolded her master for it. To drag the lady away from everything she knew, only to lock her in the house expecting her to adjust...he should have paid her more attention. But their dinner had not exactly gone as planned, judging by the full plates that had been returned to the kitchen that night, and neither had bothered commenting on what had taken place.

"If you wish we could walk to town together Madama, I'm sure il Dottore would recommend it!"

The thought filled Christine with a joy beyond compare. "There is nothing I would enjoy more, Franca!" She noticed Christine was eager to get dressed, but she stopped her. "First your breakfast Madama, or you will have no figure to show in these beautiful gowns!"

Christine blushed at her remark. When with Raoul she had been eager to look good for him, and he had often stood mesmerised before her. "You are my Lotte no more, Madame. You have chased her away with your exquisite figure!" She suddenly remembered his burning eyes following her curves that night. "My heart will not permit it..." She could not put the feeling aside that her mere presence here had shaken the very foundations of those strong resolutions he had formed, breaking and tearing at the walls around his soul, and she noticed she did not feel sorry for it.

Feeling her heart pounding, she quickly shook the thought from her mind as Franca carefully fastened her corset. She had decided to go into town and refused to do so if not dressed as a lady. "I would finish sooner would you stand still, Madama!" Franca noticed she was restless, and wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

And so the ladies went about town, Céline dancing about in between them amazed at everything new she saw. This world was so different from anything she had ever witnessed at home, where her father had been very protective of her and would never allow Christine to even take her out as short away as Paris. Christine stood in awe as much as her child. She could now completely understand his choice. Venice was so much warmer, richer, more vibrant than Paris could ever be! People had an open and friendly way of beying about, and most of everyday life happened outside in the warm sunshine. Without noticing their direction, she suddenly found herself in front of a grand structure still under construction. It was a Basilica, a house of God. But is was not so much the structure that amazed her. In front of it, in the warm light, she noticed a man bent over his drawings, pacing about in his crisp white shirt giving orders to the workmen. His every gesture so well composed yet so full of passion for his work, his art. His white mask and ash blond hair shimmering in the sunlight in turn. He needed not to face her before she had recognised him.

As if he had sensed her, he turned around. For a moment he stood silent, before carefully approaching her. "Madame, I bid you good morning. The Palazzo could no longer contain your need for diversity?"

Christine scolded Franca silently, no doubt she had deliberately led her here. By the look on his face she could tell he was thinking the same thing. "I am merely following my doctor's orders of obtaining as much exercise and fresh air as I possibly can Monsieur."

"And you are in pursuit of this at possibly the noisiest, most overcast location in the whole of Venice? I must tell Franca her sense for direction has strayed poorly!"

Some of the workmen turned around at the sound of a foreign language and the sight of so pretty a lady. Though she spoke some Italian she felt safer in speaking to him in French. It seemed to make him feel at ease as well, even bringing a smile to his face. By God, how well she looked. The sun, mixed with the diversions of Venice, had painted her cheeks a sweet rose, and made her dark curls shimmer. The light blouse and deep blue skirt she had chosen to wear complimented her perfectly, a corset shaping her curves.

"Now that I am here, would you honour me by showing me you work, Monsieur? It has been...quite some time since I had the opportunity to enjoy it."

He hesitated, feeling uncomfortable being seen with her in public, but felt reluctant in sending her away. Her interest seemed sincere, he knew it to be sincere, and he was eager to show her his progress. Before he realised it, he had offered her his hand, carefully leading her across the wooden floorboards towards the entrance of the Basilica. With one stern look he sent the worksmen back to their duties, demanding not to be disturbed.

What she saw inside surpassed her wildest immagination. "Good God...it is amazing. Such praise to our dear Lord." She turned around at him, her voice no more then a whisper in such a holy place. She noticed his excitement at her praise, as if he had eagerly been seeking her good opinion.

"I am glad you approve of it. It is of course far from finished, but work is proceeding as well as could be expected. The soft weather these last months has aided us greatly…"

His voice trailed off in her mind as he led her from one miracle to the other, explaining in detail how he envisioned the Basilica to become. She was greatly moved in seeing him talk about his passions so openly.

"How I envy your talents." He went silent in the middle of his sentence upon hearing her speak.

"You need no drawings to envision your dream, nor did you need a finished score to hear those lovely melodies in you head, teaching them to me. So many dreams and miracles lie inside your soul…and I am so honoured that you allow me to share them with you."

For a moment he did not know what to say, touched by her compliments. "You were always my one companion where dreams be concerned Christine…"

She gasped. He had said it. He had used her name even though it had sounded as no more than a whisper. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, but before she could speak they were abruptly intervened by a pompous Italian, entering the Basilica enthusiastically waving his arms and throwing about compliments and good wishes. No time, there never seemed enough time or an appropriate moment to speak.

"Maestro! How good to meet you here! I had rather hoped you would grace us with your presence today. I had been meaning to speak with you for some time to complement you on your progress, but I was informed it had been some time since you were here last? Nothing serious, I hope?" He then spotted Christine, standing aside somewhat uneasy. "Oh, I am deeply sorry for intruding you. Signorina…" and tipped his head.

"No, no, by all means. I am happy to see you. May I… introduce my friend, la Signora Christina Contessa de Changy of Paris, France." Quickly he had set the acquaintance so as to prevent any other assumption to arise in the gentleman's mind.

"Contessa, I am your humble servant." He bowed deeply, impressed by her title and embarrassed to have assumed her a young maiden when she was in fact a woman of ranking.

"Signore Galdoni is President of the Committee raised to built the new Basilica. I have just explained to la Contessa how the old structure was so cruelly destroyed by fire…" If he had indeed, it had completely passed her by. All she could remember was watching him walk about, staring at HIS building with such love and devotion.

"You have come to visit our lovely city just in time to watch a phoenix arise from the ashes, Contessa. If not for Signore Alighieri we would all be in great despair. Seeing as you are his friend, I need not boast of his many fine qualities to you, I am sure?"

It was obvious the man would not leave before establishing something of a link between his architect and the lovely looking Contessa. He did not know what to do. He knew before long the whole of Venice's upper circles would learn of Christine's arrival. But Christine, having lived among aristocracy longer than him, came to his rescue.

"Indeed, Signore. I was so fortunate as to receive my vocal training by the Maestro, from a very early age. When I fell ill this last cold winter, Signore Alighieri was kind enough to invite me here to allow my lungs to recover from their straining. I must say the warm climate and the friendliness of the people have done me a world of good!"

The older gentleman glowed on hearing her praise of Venice and its people. "Bravo! I am glad to see you healed Contessa!"

Turning, he patted his architect on the shoulder. "If la Contessa is so fond of music indeed, you must bring her to the Opera some time, my good man! She will enjoy it thoroughly, I am sure!" Christine looked down, exited to hear the Opera being mentioned but not at the least sure whether he would share her enthusiasm, let alone bring her!

"If la Contessa would do me that great honour, I most certainly will." She looked up from one man to the other, both looking back at her expectantly. "I…would be delighted indeed."

As the older gentleman made his leave, Christine could hear Céline outside the Basilica, obviously bored and willing to move on. She could hear him, her Angel, moving behind her restlessly as well, as if kept from his work. Her Angel...

She turned to him. "Your name, Monsieur..." He froze in place as he scanned her face, searching it for her purpose.

"I suppose I could not continue calling you my Angel when clearly you are a man of flesh and blood, could I?"

He returned her smile, realising that would indeed seem odd.

"Erik. It is Erik." He pronounced it as if he had to reacquaint himself with the sound of it.

"Thank you for seeing me Erik. I have thoroughly enjoyed my visit." When no response seemed to come from him, she held out her hand to him which he courteously kissed, holding it slightly longer than perhaps appropriate before she turned and resumed her walk.


	10. A Masquerade of sorts

Her room had turned to a disorganised chaos. She had tried on many different dresses, and could not decide on the right one. Right for what? Who was she trying to impress? Was it the fact that the whole of Venetian aristocracy would be watching her tonight...or that Erik was taking her to the Opera? She felt helpless, like the first night she had accompanied Raoul to a high society gala in Paris. Newly wed, Raoul had been very eager to show off his lovely young bride. "Just put on the pink dress dearest, you will be adored in that!" HE adored her in that. SHE hated the dress. With a sudden irritation, she realised to what extend she had allowed Raoul to make up her mind for her, live her life for her...

She closed her eyes, trying to let her instinct decide. Think, Christine, think! What would he find beautiful? No, that would not do, all these gowns had been hand picked by him, meaning he would like them all. Then what would you feel comfortable in? She opened her eyes again and the first gown her eyes landed on, was a beautiful sea green, decorated with blue and green embroideries. Yes, instinct had decided!

Franca nodded at her reflection in the large mirror. "Very well chosen, Madama! This colour suits you very nicely!"

Christine turned around, the dress softly twirling along. "Do you mean that Franca, or are you merely relieved to be able to put the other ones away?"

Franca smiled and hung the other dresses before returning to the vanity. "Now, what with your hair?"

Christine looked at the massive load of curls jumping in all directions. Céline would face the same problem one day! "Put it up Franca, I fear it may be the only way to subdue it!"

"Such a shame, Madama! Such beautiful curls and then hiding them away from your face..." Christine pondered at the thought. Perhaps with just a few clips...

"Alright Franca, do as you please." Franca smiled, quickly getting to work. The hour was drawing near for their departure and she knew the Maestro did not want to be kept waiting. She pulled Christine's hair away from the ears up, pinning it down with some fine mother of pearl pins. The lower part she entwined loosely, keeping it in place with some smaller pins in the shape of butterflies. This way the hair reached its full length at her back, without seeming disorganised. Christine studied herself in the mirror, and vaguely recognised the diva Erik had tried to make of her only full grown now, and hopefully wiser!

As she walked out of her room she nervously pulled her white gloves, Franca running behind her with her cape. Quickly peeking in on Céline, she noticed the little one was fast asleep. Good. Everything would go as planned now.

Nicole curtsied. "Have a wonderful evening, Madame...I dare say you look very beautiful indeed!" She smiled. "Thank you Nicole."

She walked out of the room, turning towards the staircase, as she saw him standing on the other side of the hallway, coming from his own chambers. Franca quickly draped the Cape around Christine's shoulders, and hastened away.

As she came closer to him she realised to her relief she had been right about the dress. He stood in complete awe of her. He himself was once again impeccably dressed in a black silk, complemented with a crisp white shirt and of course his mask. Christine felt once again like a little girl, putting on her prettiest clothes waiting for her suitor to arrive. She glowed of happiness and anticipation and it added to her appeal.

"You look...exquisite." It was all he could manage to say.

She gave a short but playful curtsy, shy at his compliments. "I thank you. I am glad to bare your approval Monsieur. Have I not kept you waiting? Will we reach the theatre in time?"

He smiled at her, offering her his arm. "I expect not, indeed I intend not to. It is so much more convenient entering after the lights have dimmed..."

They left the Palazzo through the side entrance, where the boat docked. The Opera Classicale was directly by the water and thus much more easily reached in that manner. Most of Venice was crossed by boat in stead of carriage and Christine had found it utterly charming. Sitting by his side as his man quickly but steadily rowed them across, she smelled the crisp sea breeze, saw the dimmed lights from the Palazzi reflect on the waterfront and felt intensely happy. She could very well immagine why Erik referred to Paris as Hell.

"So how came you to work on the Basilica?" She was glad to have found a topic for conversation that had his heart's interest.

"I was recommended to the committee by a good friend of mine, a Priest. The old Basilica had just burned down, there were many wounded and dead, and despair was great. The church needed to be reconstructed quickly in order to give the people of the congregation a place of refuge, to mourn their dead. Father Domenico had told the committee that my...disfigurement was the result of a fire as well. With the situation being as it was, it was an explanation easily accepted by all and no one has asked awkward questions since."

Christine smiled at him. "Most convenient, for I cannot immagine an architect being able to perform his art in the dark, nor find workmen coming out at the still of night."

He looked over the water before turning back to her. "Convenient indeed, though I prefer the dark slumbers still. When mankind goes silent and the true music of the world can be heard."

Before long they had arrived and with great ease and training he stepped out on the dock before assisting her. His timing had been perfect, for most had by now entered the theatre and the lights were beginning to dim. Christine was surprised to find Erik had his private box at the theatre. One which, he sheepishly admitted, he did not have to force off anyone this time.

"Being, as it seems, this city's most respected architect gives one certain privileges. In my case I knew exactly in which direction to steer their minds."

Christine looked about and already noticed the ladies peering in her direction, commencing exited conversation.

"Have you seen the Maestro and his radiant lady, my dear? I did not think the day would come to find him with a woman by his side!"

"Surely they are not...involved, you think?"

"Well, I do not see her with a chaperone, so what does that give us to contemplate?"

"They do make a stunning pair, would you not agree?"

"I had heard her to be married dearest! I am sure Galdoni referred to her as Signora de Chagny?"

"Contessa, dearest. But she seems to have traveled to Venice by herself, for though she did mention Signore Alighieri invited her, the invitation seems not to have included il Conte!"

Christine smiled at their gossip, which she could now bare so much better than in Paris. Let them talk, she thought. Soon their voices will silence and the music will take over. As the lights went down she quietly took his hand.

"Thank you for bringing me here." He seemed to stiffen under her touch, but did not pull away.

"Thank you for joining me."

The performance was exquisite. It made her realise how low standards had been at the Opéra Populaire, probably from constant lack of money. After a stunning solo by the leading Soprano, Erik had grinned at her.

"Now do you comprehend why the likes of La Carlotta have to wander as far as France to still find employment?"

She had given him a scolding look but silently agreed, realising how much his musical heart had been trampered on all those years. How he had yearned for such perfection in HIS theatre! Quietly she felt flattered in knowing he had found her good enough, or at least better than Carlotta who had originally been trained right here in Italy. Her heart cried, wishing for the music to enter her life again! During the interval, as they went to the grand lobby for drinks and conversation, she saw his face turn porcelain as soon as they left their box. Self protection. She had used it herself quite often back in Paris. A delicate smile appeared on her face as she rested her hand on Erik's arm. Hooking it, as he had allowed her at home, would raise too many questions from the more than eager aristocratic ladies gathering around.

"Maestro, Buonasera! How are you enjoying the performance tonight?" An elderly lady called out to him, and her entire group of guests fell numb as they stood awaiting Erik's reply and the unavoidable introduction to his lady.

"I find it quite sublime, I thank you. May I introduce my lovely escorte, la Contessa de Chagny? Christine, la Contessa Baldona. Her husband, il Conte Baldona, is one of the Opera's beneficiaries."

The ladies curtsied, and la Contessa immediately took charge. "Lovely to make you acquaintance dearest. You are resting your poor lungs here in Venice, I understand?"

Erik nor Christine knew where she had obtained such information, but Christine nodded confirmingly. "I am indeed. I find the climate so much more agreeable here. I am however well on my way to recovery, I thank you."

The Contessa smiled. "That is good to hear dearest. To be so near death...your poor husband must be sick with worry, I am sure!"

Erik immediately felt her grip on his arm stiffen, but before he could come to her aid he heard her answer the question as appropriate as possible. "My...poor husband, I'm afraid, has departed for the heavens before me, Contessa. Were he still with me God knows how he would have loved to accompany me here, seeing me well."

An absence well explained. It made him realise once more his little chorus girl had grown up. She had learned her way in aristocratic circles and was handling the situation quite well.

The Contessa was caught off guard. "You poor girl! To be widowed at such a young age, it is intolerable!" A curious smile reappeared in her eyes as she watched Erik, now offering Christine a glass of Champagne which she happily accepted.

"It must be quite a comfort to you to have your...guardian here looking out for your well being. I order you to take head though Signore Alighieri. To bring your young charge here, without a proper chaperone!"

Erik gave her a frozen smile, tired of the woman's prying. "Do you mean to imply the lady to be in any danger of losing her good reputation to me, Contessa? I assure you I would attempt no such thing here under your protective wings..."

She started a flattered smile, as he finished his sentence sarcastically. "Why intend to pry on a lady's honour in such a public setting when I can enjoy her...radiant presence each day at Palazzo Persico?" Without awaiting her response he obligingly bowed and turned, escorting Christine back to their seats.

"That was very bad of you indeed." She tried to sound shocked, but he could hear the delight echoing in her voice.

"On one side they all wish me to be a father and guardian to you, and on the other they are all hoping for a scandalous love affair! I have presented them with both options, it should be quite entertaining to see which one will prevail."

In her head, Christine would not know the outcome of such a battle herself. Was he still her Angel and guardian, bringing her here from France, nursing her back to health, reintroducing her into society...or was there more?

She looked up at his handsome face, the teasing lights still dancing about in his eyes, thoroughly enjoying his latest jest, and suddenly felt all warm inside. She had believed herself greatly in love with him once... His mystery, his music, his soothing compliments, his touch, their kiss...Oh yes, she had been very much in love with Raoul de Chagny, but that did not mean she had not felt a deep sense of loss when she was forced to leave the Opéra that night. "Christine I love you..." was it the memory resounding in her ears or had he just spoken to her?

"Are you alright?" His eyes looked at her worried.

"Yes, I'm quite alright. Just lost in memories and thoughts..." She could sense him eager to learn more, but he was polite enough not to press on.

"Could we...I mean, would you even consider perhaps...to teach me once more?" His face was a total blank, and she could tell she had caught him completely by surprise. Was she seriously suggesting recommencing her vocal training?

"I suppose if you wish it...I could find some time to schedule your lessons. We shall consult with Dottore Romani if it is acceptable to put such a strain on your lungs yet."

And that was it. She had expected him to say no, or rather to say nothing at all, but he had graciously accepted. She would once again be able to loose herself in music. His music. As the lights dimmed for the second act and noise died down, she gave him her most grateful look before turning her attention back to the stage.

The Palazzo was already at rest by the time they returned. Erik had instructed Renzo not to stay up and Renzo had known better than to ask questions or counterset the Maestro.

They quietly entered the hall, finding only some candles lit towards the grand staircase. In the dim lights the Palazzo looked very exotic and warm. A tension lay in the air, both of them could feel it. Christine shivered as he reached for her hand to guide her up the stairs. "Don't be foolish, you are letting the Champagne talk to you!" she scolded herself.

As they reached the hallway she tiptoed to Céline's room to check on her. Nicole had left a candle by her bedside and for a moment Christine could not resist sitting by her side, staring at her child sleeping. "My angel..." Suddenly she remembered Erik's emotional reaction when she had admitted to him how little Raoul had cared for the child... "How...could one receive such a gift from our Lord, such a picture of perfection, such loveliness...and deny it?"

She needn't turn around to feel his presence. She could feel him looking at her, at them, and suddenly heard him utter a soft sigh. The sound one would make when you believe the world to be a perfect place.

"Don't worry, she's fast asleep, she won't hear you."

Did she just invite him to enter? Quietly Erik entered the room from the doorpost he had been leaning at, dizzy with doubt and happiness at the same time.

"She needs a lighter room..." It was all he could say, for he suddenly found the child, surrounded by such sober colours, to look oddly out of place.

"No, no, she is perfectly happy here!" She looked around at him, taking his hand as if to add strength to her plea. "She has confessed to me how much she enjoys the scent of the honeysuckle outside her window..."

"She has also confessed to be frightened of the darkness." Had he been listening in on their conversations? It wouldn't surprise her.

"Aren't all children afraid of the dark? She will learn there is nothing frightening about the darkness, she merely needs to grow up a little further..."

She looked deep into his eyes, and noticed he had caught the meaning of her words. He looked at Céline once more, then suddenly reached out and touched her soft curls, surrounding her face on the pillow as a disorganised halo.

"The darkness holds no place for such angels..."

She realised, as he had, how the words had a double meaning. He quickly turned around and walked away. Christine jumped up and followed him, running to keep up with his quick pace.

"Erik!" He froze upon hearing her use his name again.

"Thank you for this wonderful evening. Thank you...for everything I suppose..."

His clear eyes seemed to pierce hers as a lifetime of emotions passed through them. From anger, to fear, to passion, to...love? He moved closer to her and for a moment she expected him to kiss her. She closed her eyes and felt a warm and gentle hand reaching for her face, softly stroking her blushing cheek before continuing down to her chin and her neck where the movement was abruptly interrupted. Her eyes flung open again, now witnessing nothing but pain and regret. He was about to say something, then suddenly seemed to change his mind before gently kissing her hand.

"Goodnight Christine." He turned and entered his room, locking the door behind him.

Sleep would not come to him that night. He tossed and turned, being haunted by feverish dreams. Christine's loving eyes, her body so close to his he could feel her warmth, smell the delicate lavender from her hair. "Angel of music I denied you..." Her whispers in his ear. And then the image of their goodbyes, her standing before him in her ruined wedding dress, returning the ring that she was supposed to wear beyond eternity, hurt and confusion in her eyes, the shock of realisation that her Angel was in fact nothing more than a very dark mind. One that was prepared to kill a perfectly noble man simply for him loving Christine. Her delusional prayers at the cemetary, her disbelieve at his return...

And now there she was, back in his life. How he longed to hold her, kiss her, tell her of all his fears, his pain, the black abyss that formed the years of her absence. But the words would not come. Opening up would mean the destruction of his protective barriers, of feeling again. Opening up would mean the pain would start all over again the moment she would feel well enough to return to her friends in Paris, leaving him once more. It would mean the end of him, this he knew for fact.

And so he would remain her humble servant, her dear friend and guardian...and let her go when the time had come. Let her get back to living, as he would. He closed his eyes once more, mumbling a prayer. "Lord give me strength..." but he knew that strength was fading...quickly.


	11. Sing for me

Christine paced up and down her room, halting at the small side table every now and then to sip from her tea. Dottore Romani had been to visit her and had found no objections to her lessons.

"You will find your own balance, Signora. Be careful with drafts, drink plenty of fluids and make sure you eat amply. That should suffice in your healing."

And so their lessons would start today. She could not understand her nerves. Her vocal training had been part of her every day routine from the early age of ten, he needn't even encourage her to start. But this was different, her life had changed so much since then...

"Are you ready to commence?" She hadn't even noticed him coming in. Without looking at her he had walked over to the piano, sorting papers and aria's he had brought.

"I'm not sure..." This caught his attention. He pulled up his brow, apparently awaiting her explanation. He noticed her trembling hands.

"Am I wrong in assuming you haven't sung much these last years?"

"Not since that night...my music left me that very night." She had not dared speak the words loudly, but it had been loud enough for him to hear.

"You mean to tell me that in all those years...?" His question remained unanswered. He did not know whether to be flattered by her loyalty towards him, or angry at her disregard of the wonders they had accomplished together.

"My singing was so easy once. I closed my eyes and sang to you. Even in that sold out Opera, filling in for Carlotta at such short notice...It was easy because I knew you were there, hearing me and guiding me. Without your presence it simply seemed...utterly useless. Wrong in every way."

She heard herself blur out her confessions, not knowing where they came from. It were the doubts she had been struggling against since that very evening she had asked him for her lessons. She hadn't noticed him getting up and silently as ever he was now standing before her. She couldn't anticipate how he would react to her words but to her surprise, he let out an almost fatherly sigh, shaking his head at her.

"Well then, this will be more work than I had anticipated. You passing through such an important age frame without any training..."

Silently she scolded herself. From 18 to 23 she hadn't sung a note. These had been the years where her voice would make its final growth, before fitting into a certain frame. From then on they could merely work with what they had, rather then allowing her to reach even greater heights.

"Close your eyes, Christine."

She looked up at him puzzled, suddenly realising he had already begun. This was a trick he had used often, when she was still younger and uncertain of her abilities. He meant to make her less aware of her surroundings, so that she could focus entirely on her voice, on the things that lay within. Closing her eyes, she sighed deep.

"That's correct, steady your breath." She felt him move closer to her and found it increasingly more difficult to steady her breath.

Two hands on her shoulders. "You are way too tense. How do you suppose to let the music pass when your whole being is centered around your muscular strains?" She noticed his voice was warm and encouraging as he tried to shake the tension from her aching muscles. It worked, he noticed it.

"Well then, let's start with the middle bars and see if we can get you up from there."

Automatically Christine began her exercises. Softly at first, but growing under his encouragement.

Every now and then she heard him hit a note on the piano to indicate the tone he required of her, but mostly she noticed him walking around her, slightly touching her on occasion to help her on technique, the position of her head, her chin, her frame. Her eyes still closed she felt her music return to her as from a far distance. Like a carriage on a foggy road, where at first you hear only its wheels and its whinnying horses, before it passes into full view. She did not even notice the tears coming down her face, nor Erik's. As the final note had passed, she turned at him, shaking.

"That was...it felt so..."

He nodded, his face once again a perfect marble. "That was very good. I had expected nothing less, Christine." She noticed he had very aptly reobtained his role of mentor and seemed very comfortable in the part.

"We will start with a familiar piece, so you need not yet bother searching the melody and can focus completely on your singing."

The morning passed more quickly than she wanted. The piece he had selected for her had indeed not been a difficult one, but she found it hard enough. She had not anticipated the lack of training to bother her so, and found herself quite tired at the end of it. She noticed Erik being very gentle on her, and Erik in turn found Christine more critical of herself than before. She recognised her mistakes before he could correct her and instead of pouting at his remarks she took a deep breath and tried again. Five years had been a great gap indeed. Not only had it matured her voice, but also her body and mind. The chorus girl was no more. Before him stood a diva in the making.

"That shall be enough for today." It were the words he had used for many years upon hearing the Ballet Rats move through the corridor, knowing Marie would not allow him to make Christine miss her ballet rehearsals.

"Your voice sounded better then I had anticipated. You have worked hard, Christine. I'm very content." His praise meant even more to her now as it had done before.

"You are too kind, I'm sure."

"It was your first training in five years. Let it rest. This afternoon you will enjoy this fine weather and tomorrow we will continue." He started clearing his papers, absently addressing her as he would his servants.

"I must ask you to repeat the ladders to yourself a few times each day, they will help warm your vocal chords, help them realise they once again have hard work on their hands. Sing lullabies to Céline if you wish, anything to keep them busy."

Before she could speak again he interrupted her. "Rest now, have your tea. I am late for my meeting with that fool Galdoni as it is." Recognising that might have sounded too harsh he added. "Not to say that the delay was not a welcome one."

He nodded at her once more, before turning on his heals and leaving as suddenly as he had arrived.

Christine sat down, realising she really longed for another cup of tea. She was tired and her vocal chords were aching from their hard labour, but she felt more alive than she had in many years. It was the first time she actually sat down in her own sitting room. Most of the time she had been in her bedroom, or if the weather permitted it in the garden. She looked around, once more baffled at the room's delicate design. It was as if he had visited her dreams and had seen her innermost thoughts and desires. Picking up one of the books, she suddenly realised that the idea was not so strange. After all, she had confided in him for many a year.

"What a pretty new dress you wear today, my dear."

"It was a gift from Maman Giry. She wanted to buy me a pink one, but I prefer the blue so much better. It is like the colour of heaven!"

"Late again for your lesson, my dear?" "I am sorry Angel, but I was reading in my book of Les Misérables and Cosette is so alone and scared!"

He had always let her talk and talk, about her books, her friends, her new ballet piece that she could not grasp, the heroes from her fairy tale stories and how one day she hoped to meet just such a hero.

"If you sing to him as you do for me, my dear, he will whisk you on his white horse and carry you off to his castle in a second." How true those words had proven to be!

"He was born to love you, when he heard you sing..."

"I'm sorry?" Galdoni had made a remark concerning the main altar, but Erik had constantly felt his attention drawn away. Good God! Even in his waking moments she had begun to haunt him!

"Without your presence it simply seemed...utterly useless. Wrong in every way..." How he had wished to say the same to her! He had not been able to compose in her absence. All it took for him was to hear her voice again. Now his head was once again so full with the loveliest melodies it was driving him to insanity. He quickly concluded his meeting to return to his home, his piano. He knew it would be a long night...

The aria they were working on was a difficult piece. For a while they had pondered about with familiar pieces, but Erik yearned to push her limits, see just how much she had grown and discover where her boundaries lay. Seeing her being so critical of herself had allowed him to do the same, and today he had plenty to remark to. The pianoforte ceased abruptly, followed by a frustrated moan.

"That was absolutely appalling. Where did that come from? Have you perhaps been to tea with the disastrous Carlotta? Has she infected you with her sour voice?" Before she could argue or object, he started the aria from the beginning. "Again Christine, from the beginning. Concentrate!"

She sighed, closed her eyes and tried not to be affected by his ruthless remarks. She had dealt with them before and always managed to survive. She had learned to recognise them as a result from lack of sleep. Whenever he had brought her near tears, he had appologised at the end of their lesson, claiming he had been up late writing music. Could he be composing once again? Would he share the piece with her once finished? Before she knew it she had missed the bar again. She simply could not find the right technique!

"That was..."

"I know! I know, no need to rub it in so fiercely each and every time! If I were perfect at every aspect, I would not need your lessons, would I? I am here to learn, so teach me in stead of stating the obvious!"

For a moment he sat dumbfounded. She had learned to stand up for herself. Would she have addressed the Vicomte as such? He grinned at the idea.

"You are utterly in the right. I am very sorry. I suppose a lack of sleep..." Now it was her turn to smile, she had been right!

"You are composing then?" He nodded vaguely, of course he would never admit that that was not the only thing depriving him from sleep. Thoughts of Christine's warm body to his, covering her in kisses, hearing her whisper his name, her voice thick with desire, longing for his touch...

"Will you share it with me?" Her enthusiasm sounded almost childlike. He remembered her excitement on being revealed to the first parts of Don Juan. How could she have known then what it would lead to!

"I may, when I have progressed far enough for it to be a coherent piece..." He frowned.

"But first things first. You are cleverly trying to avoid your duties, Signora and I will not accept it!"

Instead of the cold Madame he now usually addressed her with the Italian alternative, which sounded ever so much friendlier. She sighed, as he came behind her to give her instructions on composure.

"Lower your shoulders, tuck in your chin. Only tuck it, do not tilt your head, like so."

Again she felt his warm hand on her face, making her think back at that night after the Opera. He did not seem to notice the shiver in her body as he continued towards her waist.

"Make sure you remain in a straight line, you have a tendency to tense your abdomen region too tightly, causing the tone to overstress." She nodded, convinced her voice would tremble too much upon speaking.

"Try it once more, just this bar." She doubted for a second, his hand still resting along her waistline, waiting. As she started the bar, keeping her head in check, she felt his hands correcting her line and noticed what he had meant with his remarks on straining the wrong muscles. As she tipped the high note his hand shot flat across her abdomen, making sure she would not tilt them inward once more. She was astonished at the change.

"Very good. I trust you felt the difference?"

Unable to utter another word she turned at him. He noticed the flush on her cheeks, the trembling of her breath, and in the same fragment of a second he realised what had happened, her lips were on his. Cautiously at first, as it had been that dreadful night, but then more self assured.

A whirlwind of emotions overcame him. There was no other lover this time, no noose around his neck, no impossible dilemmas. She was kissing him by her own choice. How he wanted her to continue, how he wanted her to stop! By now her hands were wrapped around his neck, begging him closer, unwanting to leave him. But he made the decision none the less. Pushing her from him with more force then perhaps intended, he closed his eyes and tried to forget what had just passed. But upon opening them again he found she was still there, her lips still moist and rose from their recent excitement, her eyes feverishly searching his face for a reaction, an answer to her questions that he knew he did not have.

"I cannot Christine...please...I just..." Flashbacks of that night, their kiss, that same look of disbelieve on his face...

He turned and walked, as he had so many times, but this was the first time Christine sincerely feared whether she would ever see him again...

**Ha! Leaving you with a cliffhanger here! Depending on how many reviews you guys give me, I'll reward you with all the answers shortly... -x-**


	12. The man I love

**Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your kind reviews! Without further ado, my next two chapters. Let's see how our favorite couple will do this time... Enjoy and please review! -x- Lotte.**

Another week passed and he seemed to have disappeared once again from her sight. She hated herself for having forced his hand as she did. That kiss, though heartfelt, must have hit him completely off balance. She should have known enough of his unstable character to realise he would not take well to such changes. She left him, chose another over him, and now she had just waltzed back into his life and...what exactly? Had he not warned her she could expect nothing more than his friendship? But then, their solitary whispers at the Basilica, their night at the Opera...had she been so wrong in her judgment? Were it merely moments of checking his strength?

She wanted to escape outside, let her mind wander but could not. It was pouring with rain this day. Céline was in a foul mood, being kept in and pouting at everything. Finally Christine had sent her to her room.

"If you cannot behave a sweet girl, you will sit and pout by yourself." She had sternly looked at Nicole. "No games, no stories, Nicole!"

She realised she was being harsh on the girl, and was probably taking out some of her own frustrations on her, but she could not help it. It was all his fault! Angry and irritated, she wandered through the Palazzo, until she reached the library. A book, she thought, might help her lift her weariness. She walked in without thinking, only to find...Erik. Seated by the fire, brandy at hand, looking up from his book annoyed to be disturbed from his reading. She flushed in embarrassment, about to turn and run, when she realised this might give her an opportunity to talk to him. Where to start then? He still didn't move, just looking at her, searching her face in his all too familiar way.

"Can we talk?" Without a word he closed his book, inviting her to a chair opposite of him. She sat and realised how comfortable the fire felt.

"Why am I here?" He blinked, not exactly sure how to respond.

"Perhaps you should ask Madame Giry that question."

"She did not send me here, you offered to bring me here."

"From what I understood, your obsessive husband had just died, leaving you with no house, no title and a very pretty daughter he did not desire thus had not provided for, to wander the cemetary in search of ghosts from the past to come to your aid. Or...death to come get you, for that matter." It hurt her to hear his sneering sarcasm.

"I had betrayed you, left with another. You had no obligation whatsoever to me. I dare say your life would have remained much more peaceful had I died right there." She knew he would not share her thoughts, but continued.

"Something made you undertake that long journey to the place you hated most, to save a silly chorus girl from her mad wanderings to bring her home to a place long awaiting her...THAT is what I ask. Why?"

She knew she had driven him in a corner, forcing him to a confession. But she would not remain in his house for eternity, wondering each day about his feelings. Good or bad, she had to know.

He rose from his chair, restlessly pacing the room, feeling the strains of her question. There was no way to escape, he himself had invited her to this conversation!

"What would you like to hear then, Madame? How I went mad with grief that night? How I plotted to kill him a thousand times in thought, to regain what I believed to be mine? How I fled to places darker than your deepest nightmares? However you have been begging for death, Christine I assure you it wasn't even close to my desire for it!"

Christine had gone pale. She knew she had forced this upon herself, that she had to hear this, but she had no idea how deep his rage would lie and his anger could probably be heard throughout the Palazzo.

"I was lucky to be found in my wanderings, helped back towards a path of redemption. I took my journey here and managed to return to a life of rest and reconciliation. The construction of the Basilica is my treaty with God. I repent for my sins, he offers me salvation from my nightmares." He fell silent for a moment, as if that realisation gave him peace of mind.

"But then that night, that awful night that Madame's cursed letter arrived, claiming you to be beyond salvation or hope. I told you Christine, I had tried to warn you. You frightened away from the darkness, lured into the light by your pretty Vicomte, offering you everything a girl could possibly dream of. I've seen it happen before, and too often Heaven turned to Hell. You followed the light until it blinded you...and I hated you for it. I...pitied you for it..." His voice died away and she noticed he was crying now, talking more to himself than to her.

Her eyes were dazed, her throat thick with grief. How he had suffered for her!

"I...loved my husband. I did. I vowed to be true and loyal to him to the end of our days together, and I was. I cared for him...and our child. I joined him at balls and assemblies, gave tea parties and everything lovely and noble. I gave up my music for him. And still it was not enough. He had tried to free me of you, save me from darkness and shower me in light. Little could he have known that he himself would be haunted by memories of you. The other man in my life. He felt he possessed my body...but not my soul. For it lay in my music, your music...the songs that abandoned me the day I was ordered to leave you. And it killed him. It killed him slowly, bit by bit, that he would never have the whole of me. An orphan turned chorus girl, shaped into a diva. How he tried to replace the singer for a Comtesse, but he failed. How he tried to have an heir for his title and please his family, trying to show them he had not been mistaking in choosing me for his wife, but he failed. I betrayed you by turning from you, and I betrayed Raoul by coming with him, by entering his life. I have send you both to your ruin..."

There she was again, his Christine. The perfectly polished image of the Comtesse de Chagny had disappeared and had left him with his pupil, his angel...and he suddenly realised that in his need for self-pity he had never given thought to her pain. Assuming her to be perfectly happy with her perfectly polished husband in their perfectly polished life. Only now to realise he had sent her off to be locked in a golden cage, one that had contained no music. He stroke a dark curl from her face, then a tear from her cheek.

"If you had stayed that night...it would have been the ruin of us both. I tried to shape a chorus girl into a diva, MY diva..But you were still a child. Innocent to the ways of the world and not prepared for what my world would bring you. Trust me when I say that you would not have been able to fight my demons. In between of my many sins I suppose I still thank myself for letting you leave. But you have not left my thoughts since then for a day. How I have tried to fight you, hate you, forget you, but it would not do. All the days of my life have been, and will be, spent in search of your love..."

His fit of jealousy suddenly regained its grip remembering her departure. "...only now to find you again to realise I shall for ever more be condemned to serve as a replacement to your dead husband!"

Suddenly he felt her arms flung around his neck, her warm body against his own, shaking with tears.

"You shall never be Raoul de Chagny's replacement..."

He closed his eyes, his fears had been correct. Her stay here had not made her forget him...

"...for in his best of attempts he could not even come close to being the man you are."

He looked up at her, only to find the purest of despair and love in her eyes.

"The man I love...so dearly!"

She kissed him again, and again, and this time he let her. Thus they stood, shedding their tears in silence. The absolution they had both been seeking, had finally come.


	13. No more talk of Darkness

It had turned dark outside. Hours had gone by since the outrage drifting from the library. The servants had known better than to go and see what had happened, and kept to themselves. Céline had been asking for maman for hours, claiming she had learned her lesson and was a good girl again, but had found only Nicole to play with. On the floor of the library Erik and Christine sat, him leaning against the large chair that still cradled his book, her sitting on his lap seeking comfort, seeking to comfort him, kissing away all sorrow and tears that the years of separation had caused. The fire was dying now that none of the servants had refueled it, and the room was growing increasingly dark and gloomy.

"You must be cold."

His voice was calm and caring now, as it had been whilst nursing her back to health. Upon gripping her trembling hands, he found them icy indeed. He got up, carefully lifting her with him.

"Come, we must get you to a fire. If I know Franca she will have started a blaze in your chambers." He guided her up the stairs, his step much more solid now than hers, not paying attention to the gleaming looks his servants were exchanging behind them.

In the hallway she was met by galloping footsteps. "Maman! I am good now!"

"Are you indeed my sweet?"

The girl nodded forcefully. "Very good, Nicole say so!"

Nicole was right behind her, nodding in agreement. "She even sorted out her toys, Madame!"

Christine smiled. "Oh, that calls for an extra long story before bedtime then!"

Céline cried with pleasure before curiously turning to Erik. "Monsieur Erik, when you will come sing again? I like it so when you sing for me!"

Erik and Christine exchanged glances, him wondering when she had mentioned his name to the child and her wondering when he had sung to her.

"Do you indeed? Well then, I suppose that depends on how quick you can get to your bed, ma petite."

Filled with joy Céline hobbled off again to change. As Christine turned she saw Erik gleaming, still beside her.

"I believe I have a recital to perform, I beg you will excuse me?"

Christine pulled him closer to her. "Very well, I will let you be. But only if you promise to return to me for dinner."

He kissed her hand courteously. "My chambers at eight, shall we say?"

As she walked to her room, she met Franca in the hallway. " Franca, dinner will be had at eight, in the Maestro's chambers. And I need you to help me dress, if you will."

For the first time, Franca did not mind at all hearing Christine talk as were she lady of the house.

A little before eight she arrived at his chambers, finding the table once more impressively set. She smiled, knowing this soiree would be so different from their previous arrangement. She noticed Erik had not yet arrived, and presumed him still to be dressing. Humming to herself she wandered over to the balcony doors, dreaming away at the mirroring city lights. The rain seemed to have past its worst, and the evening sky was clearing into a lovely pink.

"Are my ears cruelly deceiving me, or is that a song escaping your lips, ma chère?"

Before she could turn around she already felt his strong arms around her, planting a soft kiss behind her ear. As she closed her eyes, taking in the sweet sensation of his embrace, she felt him carefully pulling the pins from her hair, until her dark curls had all tangled down her back again in their unruly manner. He ran his hands through them, modeling them.

"There. The final touch to a most perfect appearance."

She was relieved to hear such joy and content in his voice. She had learned him to have a very pleasing sense of humor these last weeks, and she preferred it greatly to his sudden outbursts of anger. She turned around at him.

"Are MY ears deceiving me or is my strict mentor making jest? And why, pray, are you secretly singing to my daughter, withholding such delicate pleasures from me?"

His smiling eyes seemed to turn darker right there, as he brushed his lips across her forehead. "I have sung to you on numerous occasions these past weeks my love, though I fear in your feverish state you may not have remembered. And I must admit the topic of those songs not always to be so...delicate as the ones I save for your daughter."

She choked on her breath, her face flushing a deep red. Against her hopes he had noticed, but spared her from further jest by handing her a portfolio. As she went through it she saw it contained Italian arias, some familiar, some new to her. "I suppose I cannot escape studying these, can I?"

He turned towards the table, pouring them both a glass of wine. "It seemed an appropriate moment. Now that we've had ample chance to test the range of your voice, see what suits you best. And it would probably aid you in your knowledge of the Italian language which seems useful now that it is...likely you and Céline will probably not return to France very soon."

She noticed how a question lingered in his last remark. "I believe I may safely say we have no plans of the sort. Why leave Heaven to return to Hell?"

His look of disbelief and overpowering joy moved her. She came closer and gently took the wineglass from his hand, afraid that in his utter state of shock he might drop it.

"Had I not already made it clear that I have found everything my heart could ever desire, right here at your beautiful Persian Palace?"

He held her, but from his quick breath she could notice he was still not at ease. "Please, please be no less than earnest with me Christine."

She looked up at him and faced years of fear, sadness and insecurity. Everyone that should have loved him had deceived and abandoned him. His whole life had been a process of losing, mourning, learning to go without and learning not to care. She realised it would take more than a few kisses and some idle romantic phrases to break that circle.

"If you are serious...if you love me...I could not face losing you again, it would be the ruin of me. I fear falling to depths I would no longer be able to return from!"

Fear. The word had been used so often between them, and how she hated it. No more nightmares, no more fears. Slowly, not braking eye contact, she moved her hands up to his face and removed his mask. She felt him grab her wrist, but upon encountering the determination in her eyes his grip lessened. She saw him again as she had that night, yet completely different. No more nightmares, no more fears...She kissed his disfigured face, making his sorrowful tears disappear until she felt him be completely still under her touch.

"I know my heart, my love. I pray you will come to know it as well so you can read it, and find that it is completely dedicated to you. Devoted to turning your fears into joy, and your tears into those of pure happiness."

She heard him sigh in the way he had when beholding her with Céline. She knew the first battle had been fought, and won. His face still in her hands she gave him a scolding look, lights dancing in her eyes.

"Now tell me Monsieur, can we now perhaps have our dinner as we ought, for I fear this will become the second table we shall utterly ruin and I pity dear Franca for it!"

He now smiled, burying his face in her hair once more before slowly letting go and helping her to the table.

Renzo quietly knocked and was relieved to be accepted in. To his surprise and delight he found the master and his lady not sitting on opposite ends of the table but next to each other. Having finished dinner, they were enjoying intimate conversation in the company of a good glass of wine. "Ah, la dolce vita, the radiance of young lovers!" he thought to himself.

"Can I clear the table for you Maestro, might there be anything else I may assist you in?" With a quick nod of the head, his eyes not leaving Christine's face, he signaled Renzo to clear and be gone as quickly as possible. He needed no further instructions. Piling the tableware, adding another log to the fire, he hastily excused himself.

"And?" Franca could not help but ask. "Dinner was fine Franca."

She hit him playfully "You know very well that was not what I meant!"

Renzo turned serious, pondering at what he had witnessed. "They seemed to be enjoying each other's company very well indeed...so well that he did not even bother to wear the mask, Franca..." Franca sucked in her breath.

Once, as she and her brother had come to work at Palazzo Persico, had they seen his face. The Palazzo was still in a sorry state, furniture being moved in and staff being employed. They had been recommended by Father Domenico, who was also a confidant to the master and had known their parents very well. "They are honest and hardworking children, you can entrust them with your very life."

And so they had been brought to the Palazzo and received their employment. The master had looked at them for a long time, and had then taken off his mask. Both of them had had to swallow hard at what lay beneath it. Father Domenico had warned them that the master was severely disfigured, but the sight of it had still been very disturbing.

"I wanted you to see, so that you may cease the guessing in your minds as to my unfortunate fate and prevent any feverish stories among your fellow workers. I do not wish for you to come across me without my mask and turn this whole household in an uproar. Father Domenico assured me you could be trusted and I expect no less than your utter and absolute discretion on this matter."

Both of them had nodded in agreement and had been sent on their way. It would not happen often, but especially at night when the master would get tired he would sit in his room with his books, resting his withered skin from its every day prison. For him to sit down at dinner with his lady without feeling the necessity of wearing the mask, gave Renzo and Franca a lot to wonder about.

"She was not upset?" Renzo shook his head. "Not at all, she regarded him as any other man..." Franca gave him a teasing smile. "Did I not tell you everything would fall together?"

At the table Christine still stared at Erik in the utmost devotion. How she loved him! How happy she was that this day of rain had kept them inside! She noticed his bad eye fiercely blinking at the bright light of the rising fire.

"Are you alright my love?"

He shook his head, rubbing the eye. "It happens when I tire. Pay no heed to it ma chère."

She smiled, squeezing his hand. "So long as you do not tire of me! Tell me, is there anything that I may do to bring you relief?"

She saw a teasing twinkle appear in his good eye, but before she could feel embarrassed he quickly drew her near. "The Dottore has provided me with a tonic that I may use to rest the irritation. I believe it lies in my room by the bed."

She kissed him and was on her way. His bedchamber was very elegant and masculine, and made her remember the cavern under the Opera House. Adorned with gold and green, she suddenly understood how he had found those colours to brisk for her little Céline. She quickly sought out the tonic, feeling somewhat embarrassed in being there. As she assisted him in watering his eye, she immediately noticed the change.

"Thank you, that is much better!" Both eyes were now shining up at her again.

"You have a very good doctor." He kissed her. "I know, he gave you back to me!"

Parting was very hard that night. The Palazzo already lay dormant, which made it easier for them to cross the hallway in a not so suiting manner. He could not be prevailed upon entering her chambers however, in fear of never leaving.

"Remember, I have promised the dear Contessa that I would not make a bad woman of you." They both laughed at the memory of it.

He let his hands run over her face, from her marble forehead past her gleaming eyes and the tip of her nose to her yearning lips. "How I adore you!" he whispered. "And I you!" she could barely speak the words before being silenced in the most passionate kiss imaginable.

"Sometimes I fear that I might wake up and find this all to have been the sweetest of dreams."

"Did we not agree to have no more fears?"

"I cannot promise you my fears will pass so quickly. I might...tell you of them, so you may hold me and bring them to silence..."

She softly pulled him into the room before closing the door behind them. "Then let me hold you now, so that your fears of awaking without me may be silenced..."

He was almost shocked at her proposal. "Christine..."

She put a finger on his lips. "I'm not suggesting anything so improper, rest assured. That does not mean however you can not stay and send me off into a safe sleep. Besides, Franca has already gone to bed and I will be needing some assistance in undressing. I do not think my poor lungs will appreciate remaining in this corset another minute, let alone this whole night!"

As she turned her back to him and he carefully started to undo the back of her gown, he playfully kissed her neck. "Madame de Chagny, you are an evil woman. I fear one day you will be the ruin of me!"

She gave him the most innocent of looks via her mirror. "Well that would be the easiest of fears to silence, Signore Alighieri. All you need do is leave this room then." He sent her a scolding look in return, which without his mask did not seem half so stern.

"Where did you find your name though? You have not yet revealed the secret of its origin to me!" Suddenly she realised there was still so much of him she didn't know. For all she knew it could in earnest be his last name!

"Ma chère, as soon as your knowledge of the language allows it, I will order you to reread your Divina Commedia in it's original context!" Suddenly she remembered. The Divine Comedy, written by Dante, whose unfamiliar last name was...Alighieri. His favorite author, she should have known!

By now he had loosened her corset and politely turned from her, gazing through the curtains into the starlit night. He would not confess to her that the sight and feel of her warm skin beneath his hands had left him with a longing to great to mention. He did not turn back at her until he knew she was safely in her bed, the object of his desire safely separated from him by many comforting blankets. He sat by her and with not much objection allowed her to draw him close, his arms wrapped around her as they both drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

He did not know what time it was when he felt a soft hand on his scarred skin. Christine? No, this was a small hand, which meant...He slowly opened his eyes and by the light of the candle that they had accidentally left burning, he looked into the inquisitive hazel eyes of Céline. She looked back at him with a small frown on her brow, one he recognised from her mother who tended to the same gesture when a song or a note gave her troubles and she was concentrating.

"How come your face looks so?"

For a moment he could not answer, simply amazed by the fact that his disfigurement seemed not to frighten her at all. "I do not know, I was born like this."

Céline nodded as if suddenly she understood completely. "Then God in Heaven made it so!"

He smiled at the simplicity of her reasoning. If it could not be explained it must be God's doing and thus completely acceptable.

"Does it hurt, your face?"

"If God made me so, would He not see to it that it doesn't hurt?"

She pondered at this thought for a while. "Does He?"

"Yes, ma petite. And now tell me, why are you not asleep in your bed?"

She pouted at him sadly, another trademark she had obtained from her mother and a very dangerous means of getting her way. "There is a monster under my bed."

Erik sat up slowly, careful not to wake Christine. "Is there? Well then, we had better make sure he leaves you then!"

Céline nodded happily, holding out her arms to him. As he picked her up she immediately wrapped her little arms around his neck. A happy mixture of senses overcame him. The scent of her flowery soap, her soft warm breath against his neck, her hands clinging to him in complete trust. The monster, of course, had long left. Erik lit the candle by her bed, claiming monsters as a whole were very frightened of its flame, as well as of teddybears, and assured her it would not show its face again. He sat by her a while lulling her to sleep. He was about to turn and leave when he heard Céline mumble in her sleep.

"Bonsoir papa..."

His life was complete indeed.


	14. Let the dream begin

**Hi everyone! Sorree from the bottom of my heart that it took so long to update again! I am unfortunately very busy in helping to prepare for my sister's wedding in just a few weeks and when I finally managed to find time, FanFiction's Document Manager turned on me and I couldn't upload the files! Everything seems to be working again however, so without further ado: the continuation of our story! Enjoy and pleez review! -x- Lotte.**

The next day as Christine woke she did not find him by her side. Seeing as she hadn't locked the door to her chambers, it was probably wise he had left, for Franca would have been completely in shock to have found them together. Then again, if she HAD locked the door it would have given rise to even more suspicions. With her breakfast however, came the prettiest bouquet of flowers. Franca gave her a glowing look, but simply put the flowers on a side table and said nothing. Attached to it was a small card of the finest ivory paper.

_Good morning my angel, _

_I hope you have rested well and no monsters haunted you while I was chasing them from your daughter's room. Be sure to drink plenty of tea with your breakfast and do not forget to warm your vocal cords, for I fear they are in a dreadful shape from staying up so late and I will have you put them to use today. No excuses, no complaints! _

_Your obedient servant, _

_E. _

She smiled and immediately got to work. Letting the air flow along her vocal cords, touching higher and lower notes at turn, sipping her tea to aid her body in its hard work. Franca was listening to hear while helping her dress and was amazed at her talent.

"Have you received training before, Madama? In Francia?" Her curiosity had won.

"I have Franca, for many years, since I was but ten years old, with the greatest teacher in the whole of Paris!"

"Did you indeed? He must have been a very fortunate man, to enjoy such talent from his pupil!" The reply came not from Franca. She happily jumped up to find Erik leaning at her doorpost.

Her heart wanted to run to him and embrace him, but in Franca's presence she steadied herself and contented herself by letting him press an affectionate kiss on her hand.

"You see Franca, when Madame de Chagny was but ten years old I did not yet have to suffer her arguing my decisions all the time, or her fainting underneath her corset for that matter. Be sure to be gentle on her poor lungs, I would hate for la Signora to run out of air suddenly..." And with that, knowing he had left both Franca and his beloved Christine in complete shock, he turned and disappeared as sudden as he had entered.

"Il Maestro? HE was your teacher, Madama?" Christine nodded while resuming her training.

"You heard what he said Franca, a sufficient amount of air to my lungs is more important than my bella figura!"

They trained throughout the morning and once again the whole Palazzo seemed suddenly filled with a vibrant energy. By now most of the staff seemed to have made the link between the master and his beloved friend and paused their duties to listen in awe. In Venice, most had only known him as an architect, only now to find the rumors of his musical genius confirmed. Céline would not be kept from her mother's side, so that in the end it was agreed that so long as she stayed in a chair with Nicole and be quiet as a mouse, she was allowed to stay.

Christine was still easily tired, but her soul was roaring. A passion long ago put to sleep had been awakened, and she realised once again that it was her destiny to sing. Her life was not complete without it. Her life was not complete without him! An now she no longer had to hide her feelings.

At lunch they sat out on the balcony of her room. Céline had finally been prevailed on to go out in the garden to play, and most of the servants had returned to their everyday business. Christine had once again worked harder than she perhaps ought to, constantly demanding more of her body and voice and being quite put out if a note would not go her way.

"You are progressing each day, my love. I'm very proud of you."

She smirked. "Your love for me obviously clouds your judgment, for you tend to overlook my hopeless slumping! But I thank you for your compliments none the less."

"You are too harsh on yourself."

"With my stern Angel no longer around to scold me and call me a useless Ballet Rat, I have to find some way of maintaining a certain level of self criticism."

He brushed a lock of hair out of her frowning face. "I will gladly call you a Ballet Rat if you believe it to be helpful."

She giggled at his dry remark. He was about to walk away when she remembered his card from that morning. "May I enquire as to why you and Céline were on a monster hunt this night, instead of resting your eyes?"

Erik sat down again, remembering fondly his encounter with the little girl. "She was badly bothered by a gruesome monster under her bed. She came to your room last night hoping you would frighten it away and found me instead."

Christine's eyes went big. "But...she saw you sleeping with me? And...oh Erik, you did not wear..."

"Your daughter is quite wise for her age. She took one look at my abhorrent face and happily informed me that God himself had obviously intended for me to look this way."

He could not but smile at the recollection. "I frightened her monster away and must admit to singing for her."

"She must have enjoyed that."

"I believe she did..."

He turned to her, not sure what to tell her. "Christine...when I left her...I believe in her sleep she called me her papa..." Christine had tears in her eyes, knowing how much Céline's words must have meant to him.

"Do you believe her to have been dreaming, perhaps?

"To be quite honest my love, I doubt Céline has many memories of her papa, simply because he hardly showed himself in the nursery." She felt her anger rise as she recollected Raoul's indifference to his one and only child.

"In many ways, you have been a more loyal father to her then Raoul de Chagny ever was so no, I do not believe her to have been dreaming. I believe she has grown as fond of you as I have." She stood up and kissed him. "You shall simply have to make amends with the fact that you have been cruelly pulled away from your peaceful solitary existence and now have two very silly ladies fawning over you!"

As she remained in the comfortably warm sunshine a little longer, he took his leave of her to visit a dear friend. Father Domenico embraced him warmly. "It is good to see you here again, my son. Please sit and enjoy a glass with me."

Having anticipated as much Erik presented him with a very fine bottle from his private cellar, upon which the priest nodded approvingly. As they were settled in the reverently silent garden of Father Domenico's humble abode, he looked at his young charge contently.

"You seem well, Erik. It has been too long since we have talked." Erik smiled at him, and...could it be his immagination, or was there the utter glow of a passionate young lover in the man's eyes?

"I could tell you all that has befallen me these last few weeks Father, but I fear you may not believe my happy ramblings!"

Father Domenico looked at him expectantly, taking in another sip from his wine. "I have plenty of time to spare my son, so let's hear it!"

Erik tried to recall all events as coherent as possible, not sure how or where to start. "Christine...She has returned to me Father. And an encounter that could have sent me straight back to the dark abyss of my sorrow, has turned out to show me the light of Heaven!"

The priest could not have been more surprised. "Are we talking of la Signorina Christine Daaé? The woman that married the Vicomte de Chagny?"

"And had to burry him this winter, Father. It nearly cost her sanity, and her life but to my great relief I was able to bestow on her the miracles you have so graciously bestowed on me. To both our greater comfort, I must add."

He quickly related the story in full to his spiritual mentor, who listened amused. "Did I not always tell you Erik, that the very things you crave most, shall surely become to you if you trust in our Lord to assist you with them?"

Erik pondered at the thought, nodding in agreement. "The reason I had to come and see you is to seek advice on the direction of my course...for I now have a woman and child in my house whom I seek to make honourable by means of marriage." He smirked at his own incompetence. "And I am at a complete loss as to how to go about this. What is expected of me..."

Father Domenico smiled at him, pouring him another glass of wine. "You could not have come to a better person and it will be my pleasure to enlighten you. To tell you the truth Erik, marriage is a very simple, yet basic agreement between lovers. It is an institute solely founded for three purposes. to ensure the procreation of children, to avoid sin and fornication, and to aid you in your mutual support and comfort, the very foundations of your love. In less formal language that means you have to be willing to share the remainder of your life with no other than Christine, you must devote yourself to her happiness and well being, and you have to be willing to bring Gods children into this world with her."

Erik bowed his head. "That sounds simple enough, Father."

The priest nodded. "Still, the first step of it all shall rest entirely on you my boy. And that is to get the lady to marry you in the first place."

Erik felt a nervous knot clutching his stomach. Hastily Father Domenico continued. "If she loves you so dearly as you have described to me, I doubt that shall be a problem. From that moment on, I could marry the two of you before the eyes of our Lord at any time or...any place for that matter."

Erik knew what he meant and was grateful for it. Father Domenico knew enough of his insecure character to know Erik might prefer a nocturnal ceremony.

"And the girl?"

"Is she christened, and a faithful child of God?"

Erik nodded forcefully. "She is an angel fallen from the heavens to brighten our lives, Father."

"In that case you need only to register her as your own through bonds of marriage, and she will be your legal daughter and charge."

Dizzy with bliss, Erik had listened to his story. Céline his daughter...she would call him her papa for ever more! Hastily he stood up, taking his leave to prepare. Father Domenico could do nothing but smile at the heavenly inspired light that seemed to surround his young friend.

"Erik, I wish you joy. God knows you deserve everything He so graciously decided to bestow on you. Do bring your lovely lady next time?" Erik smiled as they embraced. I promise Father. I...believe it will do her equal good talking to you."

Upon returning at the Palazzo, he learned Christine had taken Céline for a stroll through the city. "Perfect!"

Franca looked at him in amazement. "Maestro? Are you quite alright?"

But he was already halfway up the stairs. The ballroom Franca, open it! Tonight it must look like heaven on earth!"

Faintly guessing his intentions, Franca quickly assembled some of her maids to start her work. The ballroom had not been used since they had come to live at Palazzo Persico. The master had always been very much to himself, not attending many parties let alone organising such frivolous activities himself. The girls quickly set to work in dusting and cleaning. Upon lifting the withered sheets resting on the patterned wooden floor, they happily discovered it still to contain a sufficient layer of wax which saved them a lot of time.

Erik hurried about, looking around, amply remembering himself what the room looked like. All he knew was that for a lady so fond of music and dancing, this would be the perfect location for his purpose. He could still clearly recall her radiant face in sweeping the dance floor at the Masquerade in Paris. Tonight would be a repetition, only this time it would be his ring she would display!

"Candles Franca, we need candles. Hundreds of them! And a beautifully set table by the fire..."

She was glad to see Renzo behind him, rolling her eyes at him as if saying "I have no idea what has befallen him, but you are allowed three guesses!" Renzo went to find some of his men, to help Franca and her maids with the heavier chores. They had never in their life seen the master so radiant, and if they could assist in keeping him so, they would not falter!


	15. Say you'll share with me

Christine returned to find the Palazzo awkwardly silent, but paid no heed to it as Céline had immensely tired from their walk and needed to be put to bed quickly. How could she have known Erik had dismissed the entire staff for the night! As she reached the nursery, she noticed Nicole in a more than usually pretty dress, turning around at her nervously.

"Madame, if you please...there is a feast of some sort in the city tonight, with music and dancing...Monsieur Renzo has invited me to join a group of friends to go." Noticing her lady's teasing smile, she quickly added. "Mademoiselle Franca will be going also, as well as some of the other girls..."

Christine smiled at her. "By all means Nicole. You deserve some rest from ceaselessly devoting yourself to my dear child...and myself for that matter." After quickly embracing her lady in gratefulness, she quickly made her way downstairs.

Christine looked at Céline, who was already well on her way in undressing herself. "Well then, with Nicole away you must take care of yourself tonight, my angel."

Céline looked almost insulted. "I am very big now maman, I can do!" Christine could not help but laugh as she quickly tugged the little one in bed. Upon feeling the soft pillows she immediately dozed off, clutching her favourite teddybear as protection from the monsters.

Upon entering her room, Christine gasped at the sight of her newest present. Spread out on the bed lay a new evening gown, a beautiful midnight blue, sparkled in the most delicate of crystals embroidered to it. Accompanying it was a small card in the beautiful ivory paper she recognised to be Erik's stationary.

_My dearest Christine, _

_I hope your walk has not left you too tired to have dinner with me this night. I shall be waiting for you in the heavenliest of rooms, all you need do is let the roses guide you to me as they used to at the Opera House. Please do not tarry dearest, for I long to hold you near again! _

_Your most obedient and devoted servant, _

_E. _

Bewildered at his plans, she quickly started to change her clothes. The dress was a darker shade than the soft pastels she usually wore, but she had noticed Erik to have a keen eye on which colours to become her. She blushed slightly upon seeing the gown's low cut neckline, but a glance in the mirror made her realise it suited her very well. It seemed to be a different woman in total looking back at her. The Little Lotte from Raoul's memories had been replaced with a grown up, self assured woman. One who was about to have dinner with the man of her dreams!

As she strutted out of her room she noticed the roses in the corridor and down the staircase. She was quite positive they had not been there upon her entering the Palazzo, and she admired Erik for his quick work. What was he planning? Ever since she was little she had been unable to stand secrets! The last rose she picked up had led her to a large room she had not been to yet. As she opened the large mahogany door she immediately realised why, it was the ballroom.

Treading cautiously, as not to slip on the smooth wooden floorboards, she stopped suddenly upon beholding the room's beauty. Candles everywhere, hundreds of them! It reminded her very much of the house beyond the lake...and by the lake there was a man...

She turned towards the open doors which led to the garden and saw him standing there, amused by her awe. His plan was working perfectly so far. As he walked towards her he smiled at her utter shock, carefully taking the roses from her hands and placing them with a large bouquet on the dining table.

"How do you find our setting this night, ma chère?"

"Erik, it's...beyond beautiful. How much work this must have been!"

He twirled her around humming a tune, surprised once again at the lightness of her tread. "One afternoon to be precise, with the devoted help of Franca and Renzo of course."

Suddenly Christine began to comprehend. "The feast in town...it was very happy indeed you could spare the staff to leave this night."

"Very happy indeed. I would take care where Nicole be concerned, dearest. I have the impression that my Renzo is very much infatuated by her golden locks. Not that we should have anything to fear from his intentions of course, but it might mean we shall have to look for a new nurse..."

After a while he led her to the table as to allow her some breath from their waltz. Christine sipped from her wine, once again looking around the room in awe. Turning back to Erik she could not help but return his devoted gaze. "And you Monsieur? What have I to fear from your intentions?"

She had meant it to be a joke, but saw his face suddenly turn very serious indeed. Was it something she had said? She fell completely silent, watching him as he nervously paced about before sinking down in the chair next to hers. His gaze was impenetrable, searching her face in his all too familiar way. She suddenly remembered his words from the night before. "I could not face losing you again, it would be the ruin of me..." Oh dear God, of course!

As she looked up again the noticed him fumbling about a small object, while carefully searching for words. "Christine, I...words can never express how blessed I feel in having you here. So much has passed between us, so much pain and sorrow befallen us while we were apart, so many regrets we wish could be undone..."

He handed her the small object, placing it in her hand before carefully folding it. "I hope this will let us make a new start. No more fears, as you would say. We can live here at the Palazzo in peace, as a family should..."

By now her eyes had lingered away from his, landing on her hand. She could guess what lay inside, welcomed what lay inside, but was ever so nervous to find out. As she cautiously unfolded her hand she found a delicately shaped white golden band, a heart shaped ruby set in its centre.

The tears on her face were encouragement enough for Erik to continue. "The white gold I chose for the pureness of you, the ruby to show how much you have warmed my heart. I designed it for you many years back in Paris, and I hope you will not mind me borrowing one of your rings last night to measure the exact size. Much as I knew your hands to be fine I discovered your fingers to be smaller still."

Christine was still at a loss for words, moved deeply by his careful preparations. The ring...he had kept it for so long! Brought it with him from Paris knowing she was marrying another that very moment! How delicate its beauty, how precious its message! Feeling braver and more secure with every moment, Erik now kneeled beside her, taking her hand while wiping her tears with the other.

"Christine, will you honour me in becoming my wife?"

"Yes, of course..." It was a mere whisper from her lips, before she threw herself in his arms, searching his warmth to remedy her fervent trembling.

Stroking her fine curls Erik was still trying to grasp what had just passed between them. He had actually proposed to her, after all these years. After having all the odds set against them, against him ever obtaining her affections. And she had accepted him, to be her husband for ever more, to share his life and his bed. Him! He felt Christine breaking free from his grasp, still sitting on his knee, her wide gown flowing about them.

She produced the ring from her hand. "Would you put it on for me, I fear I cannot...my hands...they are trembling so!"

Kissing both her hands he took the ring from her, carefully slipping it onto her finger. A perfect match. It complemented her fair skin beautifully. Christine could do nothing but gaze at her hand and Erik's joyful face in turn. Now it was his turn to scold her. "Now, Signora, shall we proceed to dinner before we ruin a once again perfectly set table?"

Dinner passed in silence, merely interrupted by their mutual glances across, filled with love and utter devotion, neither finding a way of expressing what hurled within. Erik still could not grasp she had actually consented to becoming his wife. Never had he immagined such pleasures to be set away for him, the monster, the phantom...As if waking into a sunny summer's day, suddenly finding himself to be a perfectly respectable architect with a beautiful house and a loving wife and daughter beside him.

Christine for her part knew now she should not have left with Raoul that night. She would not have wasted five perfectly good years of her life trying to become someone she was not, wasting her talents and murdering the love she knew burned inside for this man, her future husband. Erik noticed her weariness, and upon asking her to express her worries he merely took her in his arms.

"I have tried to explain to you before my darling, that staying with me that night would have ruined us both. I had too many dragons to slay. I needed to find salvation first in order to be able to accept another in my life. Learn to love myself before loving another. I did not live back then, Christine. I lived through you. I needed you to feel alive, that's why I could not bear to share you. I did not love you, I loved possessing you."

His confessions startled her. In all her childish confusion she had never immagined him to have sunken so deep in his own darkness. "Raoul de Chagny has been good to you, has he not? Treated you with love and respect?" She could not deny it. He smirked at his own remarks. "Now why am I the one convincing you of my late rival's good qualities?"


	16. Tales of sun and moon

The next morning Christine awoke very early. She could not immagine why as they had been up well into the night, sharing hopes and fears and the loveliest of silence. They had talked about their day of marriage, about Céline. How it pleased him to become a father!

Erik had told her of Father Domenico, his dear friend and savior. They had met in France as Erik was running from the mob, his past, his anger...Father Domenico had taken him under his wing, getting him safely out of France and eventually to Venice. He had taught him the biblical stories that his mother had never bothered to acquaint him with. The holy book had always been a means of threat to Erik, warning him what would befall on his evil soul. He never learned how that same book also contained stories of love, forgiveness and compassion. He was brought to realising that great evil had been done to him, shaping his character into its current twisted state. And that he could not blame himself for those evils.

He had told her of the Father's desire to meet with her and she had happily agreed. She dearly wished to thank him over and over again for his kindness in giving Erik back his true soul, the soul that now loved her so dearly.

He had stubbornly avoided all her luring tricks and had returned to his own chambers after kissing her goodnight. "Before long I shall never have to leave your side again, ma chère. I believe a little patience might be appropriate!"

The door opened and the tapping of little feet betrayed her daughter trotting in. Quickly she closed her eyes, as she heard Céline walking towards her. She felt the little girl's breath above her face as she was seeing whether her mother was truly asleep. A quick jump and Céline was next to her on the bed, crying with joy.

"Bad maman, you were not sleeping!"

"Good morning my sweet!" The two of them lay side by side for a while, whispering secrets and dreams in each others ears.

"Is not Monsieur Erik here? Is he already awake?" Christine chuckled, obviously Céline had concluded since that night, that it was perfectly normal to find Erik in her bed. She hoped the girl had not mentioned this to any of the staff!

"You like Monsieur Erik, Céline?"

The little girl nodded fervently. "He sings me pretty songs and he makes me laugh and he chased the monster away!"

Christine took a deep breath. "Céline...how would you like it if Monsieur Erik was to be your papa?"

Céline fell quiet for a while, frowning and looking at her maman. "But papa is with God and grand-père in Heaven?"

"I know, my sweet. Papa in Heaven is the papa who gave you life. But when he is in Heaven he can not play with you or sing you songs, can he?"

Céline pouted. "Papa in Heaven never sang me songs!"

Christine knew. Raoul had neglected far worse on his child then merely refraining from singing to her!

"Monsieur Erik loves you very much, just as much as I do. And he has asked me if he could be your papa here on earth and sing songs for you every day. Doesn't that sound nice, my sweet?"

She noticed Céline slowly grasping the difference between her two papa's. She turned to Christine. "Can I call Monsieur Erik my papa also?"

Christine kissed her, relieved that she had been able to bring the news to her daughter in a way a three-year-old could understand. "Yes you can, my sweet. I'm sure he would like that very much."

And so as Erik joined them for breakfast he found Céline jumping up at him.

"Bonjour papa!"

He lifted her up, his confused expression shooting from her to Christine and back.

"Bonjour, ma petite!"

Again he turned to Christine who merely gave him a reassuring smile. "How did you...what exactly..."

"Oh it was easy enough my love. When I promised her you would be singing to her every day, she quickly found that to be a pleasure her "other" papa could not live up to!"

As Nicole brought Céline back to the nursery she would not leave before cuddling with her new papa as fervently as she was used to doing with her maman. "It is a strict morning ritual between us, and if you wish to avoid your daughter pouting at you the rest of the day, I advise you to take it very seriously!"

She found the subject of Céline to still silence him every time. "Christine...to father a child, a child so dear as your Céline...I simply never immagined such wonders to be bestowed on me. I...cannot even be sure...I mean, I would so wish to..."

She was cradling him even before his tears fell. "You can and we will, my love. It is my dearest wish to give you as many children as we may accommodate here in our beautiful Palazzo."

He noticed how she was already speaking in terms of "we", and "our", and it made his heart overturn in joy. She poured him more tea. "Now drink this, for I fear with so much singing awaiting you in the future, you shall have to sustain your vocal chords as well as I do mine!"

That afternoon they met with Father Domenico, and she found the good Father as dear a man as Erik had described him to her. He was an exceedingly good listener, pondering every thought before retorting with a question or wisdom to explore. They told him of their desire to marry as quick as convenience would allow them, for they feared the gossip that had already started to make its way through town.

"At least you were wise enough to introduce Christine as an old friend rather than a relative. Otherwise you would face a much more complicated explanation as to your marriage."

Christine smiled insecure. "Would people not object, do you think Father? My husband only died this last winter...I know for fact in Paris it would be a complete uproar to see a lady remarry so soon!"

Erik moved nervously in his chair, afraid that Christine might wish to postpone their wedding.

"Ah, but you are no longer in France, are you my dear? Here in Italy you will find people are much more...forgiving, open minded if you will. They prefer love to reign over etiquette, and they would love to see a young widow like yourself with a small child find new happiness and stability with a handsome man like Erik."

His eyes twinkled, how he loved to tease. As Erik was sent off to the kitchen, Christine thanked Father Domenico over and over again for his kindness. "I know so little of Erik's past Father, but from what I've learned he has faced many a dark abyss with no love or assistance from anyone. I wish one day he may confide in me as he does in you..."

Father Domenico's eyes turned somewhat somber in answering her. "Trust indeed is a very important base for any marriage. In time Erik will reveal what he wishes to reveal. But know now my dear, there will always remain those...experiences that will most likely never pass his lips again. Things he loathed even to recall in my presence. Not because he does not trust you with them, but simply because the very memory of them will drive him back to the very edges of his sanity..."

Christine swallowed hard and nodded. If even a superior mind as Erik's was unable to support these trauma's she doubted whether she would ever be able to do so. Perhaps in cases as these it would indeed be best to let the past be just that. Erik returned and though he suspected his name had been mentioned more than once, he decided to leave them be.

Father Domenico refilled their glasses while glancing from one to the other. "So my children, what would you say to Thursday next? I have it on very good authority a most splendid full moon shall shine that night."

Erik and Christine needed but one glance to wholeheartedly agree. The night would be most perfect...


	17. One love, One lifetime

**OK everyone, the moment you've all been waiting for! Wedding bells are chiming today! With great thanx to all my dear readers for their heartwarming reviews, please keep them coming! -x- Lotte.**

_Venezia, il 16tte Maggio , 1876 _

_Ma chère Maman Giry, _

_I hope this letter finds you in excellent health. I must commence by begging your forgiveness for my unpardonably long absence from your company. I trust you might have comprehended Raoul's doubts in allowing me to continue my contacts at the Opera long after our marriage. He feared to lose me to it's splendour once more, or to be critisised for letting his wife stray in such sinful surroundings. Either way, I was not strong enough to go against his will, a thing I am learning to regret and scold myself for more and more. I have understood from my dear Erik that you have indeed received most of my letters during those dark days, and that I solely owe it to your caring and forgiving heart that I was saved when I was. _

_You used to tell me that growing was not simply a process of becoming taller, but gaining mental strength. The ability to critisise yourself as the world around you. To learn to deal with your pain and your fears, and I believe I am well on my way in doing so. I need not confess to you I have the best of mentors with me, guiding me and helping rise above myself. For I no longer crave to put my own interests ahead, but pride myself in healing another in the process. My dear Erik has continued to love me throughout these years, no matter the cost to himself. He drew me back from my abyss, and accompanied me on my path back to light, love and happiness. _

_Maman, I am indeed very happy to tell you we will be married this night. As I sit here in my beautiful new surroundings, preparing for my wedding to my Angel of Angels, I could not help but feel the urge to write and express once again my deepest love and gratitude towards you. Know that we are both happy and healthy, and eager to start our new life together. A love no longer feeding on hurt and self destruction, but on respect and mutual support and guidance. Please know you and Meg are always in our hearts, and you are indeed most welcome to visit us at any time convenient. As you might understand, we do not desire to return to Paris any time soon, as too many dreams lie shattered there. _

_Your most grateful and loving child, _

_Christine Daaé. _

She looked at the letter on her desk. Normally she would have signed with her official name, but on the day of her marriage, the day she would be Erik's bride and take his name, the continuation Raoul's name seemed utterly useless. Very early that morning she had taken a trip to Burano, a small isle opposite of Venice. On the island lay a chapel dedicated to loved ones far away. It was a place of prayer for those, whose graves could not be visited. Christine had first devoted a prayer to her father, thanking him for returning her Angel of Music to her, assuring him of her happiness. Then she had directed one at Raoul.

_"I know with every one of your actions you only had my best interest at heart my darling. We should have foreseen earlier on, that I was never meant to be part of your world. Your dreams of light and happiness turned into a golden cage, one you could not immagine me wishing to escape from. And then you left me entirely, taking the keys to my cage with you forcing me to fight my way out. But I have, and do not regret it. I know in starting my life again, our daughter and me will be happier, and more complete beings. I will end my days with the man who truly knows my heart's desire. I__ have no regrets other then not showing you my dreams in your lifetime, so we may have chased them together. I hope to one day meet you again in the Heavenly Kingdom, and will seek to look upon you as a dear friend. I can only wish you will do the same. I will never forget you my darling, but will leave you now to your gloomy peace, for ever more."_

With her prayer she had taken her wedding band, engraved with his sweet name, and had placed it on the altar in the midst of all other precious memories that had been left there. The bond of their love, the bond of their union, departed from her for good. She then turned and left the chapel, never to return there again. The dead should have to suffer her absence for she had ever so much more to find among the living!

Erik had to suffer Renzo to help him dress, for he could not steady his hands. The moment he had dreamed of his whole life it seemed, had now drawn so near that the tension had become insufferable. He still feared to wake up from a false and deceiving dream at any moment. He remembered the first time he had admitted this to Christine, and her reaction to it.

"Then let me hold you now, so that your fears of awaking without me may be silenced..."

This was no dream, she was here, in moments she would be by his side and they would be joined in marriage for ever more! On that night in the grand ballroom, watching the candles around them slowly give way, the subject of their wedding night had come up. An awkward silence had filled the room, anticipation mixed with uncertainty.

"How I wished I could offer you a husband...more experienced in such matters as love, Christine."

He had expected her to hurriedly silence him with sweet words of how it mattered not, but instead tears had come to her eyes.

"How I wished I could offer you a wife less so!"

He had kissed her tenderly, searching to catch her soul with his eyes in the near dark. "I suppose then this once you shall have to tutor me, my love..."

Christine felt nothing but the deepest of calm. Everything she felt had to be done, was done. Prayers said, farewells spoken, letters written. The book of her past was closed and locked, and she was ready for a new book to start.

"Maman, you look pretty!"

She turned her head carefully so as not to disturb Franca's work on her hair. "So do you my sweet!"

Céline proudly let her dress twirl around her. "You think papa will like?"

"I know he will. You are the prettiest little angel on earth!"

Céline laughed, and ran off again. Christine had made a brave attempt at letting her sleep through the afternoon, so she could join them this night. Her plan had only partly worked and she wondered how long it would be before her little angel would close her eyes.

"Is it comfortable like this, Madama?" Franca had pinned the sides of her curls away from her face as she had done that first night before the Opera, but in stead of the jeweled pins she had ordained the coiffure with heavily scenting white roses.

"It's fine, Franca, thank you very much. It looks absolutely gorgeous."

Franca smiled at her. "YOU look absolutely gorgeous Madama! I am very happy. For you both!"

All the staff had been very happy to hear of their engagement, and even happier to hear of the long weekend they were granted in celebration of the wedding. This night the whole house was decorated for the feast, with all the staff attending, and after that they were free to go wherever they pleased until the dawn of Monday. Upon their return Madama di Chiangi would be no more, only their new mistress, la Signora Alighieri...

Christine glanced at herself once more, before making her way downstairs with Nicole and Franca, who were to be her maids of honour. The sudden haste of her wedding had left her in a panic as what to wear. She knew it was not common for a widow to wear white again to her second wedding, but seeing as it was Erik's first and hopefully only wedding, she wanted to look bridal for him. But with a mere week preparations to spare, it would be impossible to commission a new gown. He had subtly provided her with a solution.

"I suppose you have not yet regarded the entirety of your wardrobe, have you ma chère?" And before her eyes he had presented her with a very familiar gown, carefully tucked away in a far corner of the cabinet. It was her gown from Hannibal, her first triumph, HIS triumph!

"I thought you had not brought anything from Paris?"

He grinned. "Not from your home, ma chère, but I did from mine. I have always had a particular weakness for this costume, and the way you looked in it for that matter. So when faced with bringing it or leaving it for Carlotta to ruin, the choice was easily made. I...suppose it would go very nicely for our purpose."

She had kissed him fervently, carefully running her hands along the golden embroideries on the hem of the gown. "I believe so dearest. I shall wear it proudly."

And so she did. In the years that had passed she had doubted whether it would still fit her, but then she had realised the costumes of the Opéra had always been slightly wider in the waist as to allow her soprano's to actually breath while singing. It now had grown into a perfect fit save for the top of her bodice, which now showed off perhaps more of her filled out bosom as had originally been intended in the design. It gave the white fluff just that extra sensuality though, which Christine found very suiting. She meant to look her best for her groom, which did not automatically imply she wished to look a sixteen-year-old virgin!

"Maman, maman, come! Papa is waiting!"

Christine smiled at her daughter who was still too young to understand that for this one moment, it was perfectly acceptable for her papa to wait a little longer. The garden was bathing in light, the delicate combination of hundreds of candles complimented by indeed a full and radiant moon. A path of flowers had been created towards its centre lined by their guests, the members of staff. Upon her entering through the garden doors one of the kitchen staff, Vicente, commenced a soft and romantic melody on his violin. Not entirely spotless but very agreeable and befitting the moment, and she immagined Erik to be far too preoccupied with other matters to attend such a trivial matter.

As Céline skipped in front of her, whirling even more rose petals about on her way to the altar, she felt a healthy set of nerves overcome her. The moment had finally arrived. Looking up at Erik, impeccably dressed in the darkest velvet imaginable, she noticed him struggling to hold his composure, turning his eyes to his feet several times before being able to look up at her again. "This is a dream!", the little voice inside of him once again shouted, but the enraged beating of his heart quickly silenced it.

She looked angelic. The dress was ever so much becoming on her as years had passed, and the subtle yet sensual swell of the overflowing bodice did not escape his notice. He swallowed hard not to cry out of joy and gratefulness and disbelief, and found Father Domenico's eyes just in time winking at him, assuring him that this moment was justly bestowed on them both. Renzo stood beside him as best man, and though bewildered at the sight of the approaching bride his eyes quickly moved past, to Nicole. She noticed and blushed. That night at the festival they had danced, and upon returning to the manor she had allowed him to kiss her goodnight. It had been a brief and courteous kiss on her cheek, but his temperamental heart yearned for more. A strict look from Franca quickly made him turn his eyes back in front of him, happy that the bride had arrived and the ceremony would start.

Céline was supposed to sit with Nicole to the side but was so loathe to leave her parents that Father Domenico stroke her fine curls smiling and allowed her to sit by him at the foot of the altar. With a content smile she sat down and stroke two little hands over her new dress before radiantly looking up at Christine and Erik, who now saw nothing more then each other.

"Dearly beloved, we have gathered here on this blessed night in the face of our Lord to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. After many hardships suffered, absence from one another patiently abided, trusting in the Lord's plan for them, they may on this day be rewarded with the Lord's blessing over their union in the sight of this congregation. May I ask you to join hands, and follow my lead in your vows..."

He nodded at Erik, summoning him to speak first. Erik felt a lump rise in his throat, unsure of being able to speak, but upon feeling Christine's warm hands clutch his own, seeing her looking up at him so lovingly and expectantly, he knew this was going to be the easiest thing he would ever have to do in his life.

"I Erik take you Christine to be my lawfully wedded wife, to love to cherish and to care for, in good and in bad days, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to death us do part."

There. The vows had been spoken. The words he had read in so many of his beloved books, dreaming of a moment he may ever have use for them, knowing that such sweet blessings would never be for him. But now they were, and he realised it ever so clearly as he heard Christine repeat her vows onto him.

"...in sickness and in health, to death us do part."

For a moment they could do nothing but stare, and smile, until Father Domenico reminded them that rings would be exchanged as a token of their love and fidelity, a constant reminder of their vows. Céline had heard the word ring and proudly offered the small box in her basket to the priest. They were simple golden bands, white gold as had been her engagement ring. Engraved safely on the inside, caressing the skin of their hands, were their mutual names and the date on which God had decided to cease his trials and granted them peace. As Erik reached for her hand he noticed for the first time Christine had discarded her old, diamond crested wedding band. Her finger once again bare and awaiting her new life with him as her one and only companion.

After the rings were safely in place, Father Domenico granted them the Lord's blessing warning all of mankind their bond was lawful and eternal and that those who God had joined together in his eternal goodness, could not be put asunder by any mortal force.

"In nomini Padri et Fili et Spiritus Sancti, Amen."

The Amen resounded throughout those present, and even Céline managed to cross in time, cautiously looking from one to the other, still not exactly understanding what ritual had just been performed.

"Signore Alighieri, I believe you may now kiss your bride..."

He needn't repeat his words for Erik's lips were already on Christine's, a gesture loudly approved of by their guests. Erik swept up Céline in his arms as together they walked back inside for a celebration to last deep into the night...


	18. Music of the night

**Hope you liked the wedding as much as I enjoyed writing it! What can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic! And after a wedding comes a...? Explicit chapter people! If you're underage, or not comfortable in reading, you can continue the story without this chapter, so don't worry! -x- Lotte.**

Hours later the Palazzo had gone rather quiet. The last of the wine was being finished as some of the servants started clearing the tables. It had felt like a family feast, no distinction between master and servants. Céline had of course fallen asleep in no time with a happy smile on her angelic face. Nicole had tried to explain to her that the wedding was like the union between the beautiful princes and princesses in her fairy tales and she seemed very content in the prospect of seeing her maman and papa live together happily ever after.

"Will maman have also a baby now?" She had asked the question in complete innocence, seeming to recall the princesses of her storybooks always seemed to marry first and then suddenly had babies, but she had left Erik completely baffled.

"Would you like to have a little brother or sister then, ma petite?" Céline had nodded fervently, claiming probably a sister would be nicer to play with. He had promised to look into the matter before Céline was hasted off to bed by her embarrassed nurse.

Erik smiled once again recalling the situation. "I must advise Nicole to teach her some new stories one day!"

He noticed Renzo's smile on mentioning the girl's name and gave him a stern look. "And how fare you with your wedding preparations, my friend? I cannot have you dishonouring my daughter's nurse under this very roof now, can I?"

Renzo was sent to a scarlet blush before noticing his master's smile. "She is...a very pretty lady, Maestro. But I can assure you my intentions are honourable indeed. I have not touched a hair on her head."

Seeing another twinkle in his master's eye he realised nothing could be kept from him that he did not already know. "I kissed her goodnight, Maestro, after safely accompanying her home from the festival. The festival to which she had your wife's approval to going to!"

Wife...how well that word sounded. Suddenly he felt a strong urge to be near her again. He had graciously allowed her to retire somewhat earlier, as it seemed polite for a groom to allow his bride some time to prepare for their wedding night. But every minute in her absence now seemed torturous to him and he decided to call it a night.

Upstairs Christine was brushing her long dark curls once more, hazily staring at her own reflection. Erik had given her ample time to change out of her dress, perhaps too much time. Now she sat here waiting for him to join her and it made her more nervous than she had anticipated. It gave her too much time to think. Up to this point Erik had always been the perfect gentleman, turning from her as soon as her corset dared to loosen too far. He had slept beside her fully clothed during many a night, not even daring to sleep under her sheets with her.

But now they were man and wife, and expectations would shift as from tonight. She loved him so dearly, longed for his touch and at the same time felt restless in sensing she was about to share a form of intimacy with him that before that time she had only shared with one other. She cursed herself for letting Raoul slip back into her mind. Raoul de Chagny, drunk as a school boy on his wedding night. He had not hurt her in any way, but had been unable to perform more of an act then simply stripping her of her nightgown and release his desire for her in as short a timeframe as ten minutes. But then again, she had noticed that more often in their marriage. Listening to stories from her friends, and cautiously fumbling through some of the less decent literature in the Chateau's library, she came to understand that though very enthusiastic, her husband had not exactly been a very creative or considerate lover.

She imagined Erik's touch, always so gentle but with such passion locked in it. He was many a year more mature than Raoul, a man of the world who had traveled to far and exotic countries and possessed more knowledge of music, arts and literature in his little finger than she could ever dare hope obtain in a lifetime. A man who could hold his drink, for that matter. And yet completely innocent in the ways of love. She smiled at herself, now suddenly glad she had already passed that awkward moment so that at least one of them would not be consumed by the sickening nerves she had felt that first night. But still, the very thought of being so close to him, of beholding him completely naked so very soon...

She shook her head, noticing her sudden blush in the mirror and began tying her disobedient curls away from her face. She was gently stopped in the middle of her gesture, watching as the white satin ribbon played through his fine fingers a little longer before landing on the floor beside her vanity.

"Do you mind?" She shook her head as she stood and turned to face him, knowing he preferred her hair loose around her face.

She cradled herself in his arms, his body feeling comfortably warm under nothing but his shirt. He had left his mask in his chambers, and she was glad to have anticipated it by lighting only a few candles, afraid to make him feel uneasy in any way. By the clarity of his eyes she suspected he had far surpassed the moment of his bad eye's tiring and had already remedied it with the tonic.

"I'm glad you are here. I missed you."

He ran his fingers through her hair, wondering again at its softness and deeply inhaling its warm lavender scent. "I missed you too ma chère, I only hoped I had granted you enough time to yourself."

She gave him a teasing smile. "From our days at the Opéra you should have remembered I never need much time to dress...or undress for that matter!"

"True, but tonight...well, I suppose it's different..." She heard his voice trailing off, and studying his face she noticed he was indeed very tense. It was the anticipation of knowing what was expected of him and for once, having no idea as to how to go about it.

She kissed him slow and yearning, making sure he would sense her desire for him. To her joy he understood her message, carefully pulling her closer and increasing his grip around her waist. As he slowly slipped her lace dressing gown from her shoulders he shivered to discover she wore only a thin silk negligé underneath. She had found it in a small but exquisite dress shop in town, and had fallen in love with it upon first touching its delicate fabric. It politely covered all her curves from sight, but revealed them ever so shamelessly to the touch. Her purpose was reached as she felt his hands searching their way across her back and hips, before moving forward to her stomach and breasts. For a moment he paused, searching her face as if seeking her approval. She said nothing but merely guided his hands up further, cupping her breasts as she pulled him close once more, kissing every inch of his face. She heard him moan softly, the sweet combination of touch and being touched.

"Christine I love you, I...want you..."

She guided him towards the bed, as she slowly started to unbutton his shirt. "I know..."

Overwhelmed by new sensations he let her work for a while, closing his eyes and concentrating on her touch, feeling her press soft kisses on his trembling chest as his shirt fell open and then to the floor. He felt her small hands searching his bare skin, unaffected by the many scars she encountered there but sighing in admiration, before guiding him to the front of her negligé, encouraging him to give in to temptation. She was his wife, his own, and longed for his touch and his love.

Growing more confident with each kiss and caress he followed by her lead. Slowly, teasingly he unbuttoned the front of the negligé, noticing her nipples piercing its fine fabric in desire for his touch, and he softly brushed them with his lips before circling them with his tongue. He felt her tremble beneath his touch, softly whispering his name. As the silk dropped to the floor without a sound he could do nothing but stare at her heavenly curves, a body beyond recognition from years before. She had grown into a woman, and a very sensual one at that. Her face was flushing under his gaze, her eyes now seeking his approval.

"My angel...you are the most beautiful thing I have ever beheld..."

In one motion he had swept her up in his arms, covering her in kisses, laying her down on the bed as he rid himself of the rest of his clothing. With the fire slowly dying they had only the candlelight to guide them, making their game one of touch rather than sight. Christine moaned as she felt Erik's hands and mouth explore every inch of her yearning body.

The sound seemed to startle him. "Christine, are you..."

She ran her hands through his hair, gently motioning him back to the place his lips had stopped. "Don't stop, Oh God, please don't stop!"

Her sounds were not those of pain, but of pleasure. It drove him mad with desire to know how much she longed for him. Her husband. He was now completely on top of her, feeling her warm skin against his own, her quickening breath pushing against his stomach. He feared to crush her delicate frame under his own weight but felt her pulling him closer, wrapping herself around him, enfolding him in her body.

"How I've dreamed of this a hundred nights..."

It was a trembled sigh in his ear, followed by a long draining kiss down his neck, her whole body arching towards his. By God, how could one endure so much pleasure at once! He paused to seek her eyes, darkened in passion, her moist lips aching for more kisses.

"And I a thousand more, my love, my angel!"

He kissed her again and again as his hands went down in search of that place of mystery, the source of her passion safely hidden between her thighs. It felt warm and moist, its fine muscles immediately responding to his lightest touch. He stroke her as if she were a precious musical instrument waiting to be played, varying in speed and pressure. Her breath was irregular by now, her body pushing into him in the rhythm dictated by his hands.

"Erik, my love, I need you..."

It was all the encouragement he needed. He carefully sought his way, pushing forward until he heard her give a soft cry and knew he had not erred. Her body welcomed him softer and hotter than anything he had ever experienced. He breathed deeply so as not to let his desires escape him too soon. He would not allow it to end that quickly. He had strayed into Heaven itself and was loathe to leave it anytime soon. Caressing her legs around his waist, covering her body in the softest of kisses, he let her sensual movements guide him. "Past the point of no return, no backward glances, our passion-play has now at last begun..." He had no idea back then, as he wrote those words! This exceeded every expectation! Not just to indulge in passion, but to do so with one you truly loved, not just lusted!

"Christine, I..."

"Then do, please..."

All control was lost. There was only the delirious explosion of body and mind. And then silence, in which no more then their trembling breath was heard, their tears of relief and ecstasy mingling with their fervent kisses, loath to part.

He softly moved away from her as his body started to relax, turning on his back and pulling her with him. Words were completely useless, unnecessary. These emotions could not be put into words, only into melodies perhaps. Christine felt as if her soul had left her body, floating about unwilling to return to its human confines. And this was the man who knew nothing of the art of love? She giggled at the thought.

"What occupies your mind so happily that you should disturb my peace of mind with it?" He almost seemed put out.

"I believe Maestro, you have no use for a tutor whatsoever. I feel heavily deceived by your words of inexperience...or should I say heavenly deceived?"

He was silent once more, but she recognised it to be a happy silence. The type he would know after her lesson had gone extremely well, or after he had just finished a beautiful symphony and realised nothing more needed to be added or changed to it.

"The symphony is to your liking then, my dear husband?"

He smiled at her ability to read his mind. "It is sublime indeed, my angel. Every note exactly as it ought."

She wrapped her arms and legs around him possessively. "Then I will keep you far away from your pen and paper, for I will not suffer you leaving me to put your music into writing."

He gave her a teasing look, one so passionate as she had not yet seen before. "You offer me such pleasures in your bed, Signora Alighieri, and fear me to leave you afterwards? I suppose then, I have not yet sufficiently convinced you of my affections!"

"Say it again!"

"What, my love?"

"My name, your name, the one you have made my own..."

He turned at her, touched by the love in her voice and in her eyes. "Signora Alighieri, my loved one, my angel, my wife..."

The next morning he awoke to the seem of sunlight peeking through the curtains. He was enjoying the silence around the house, realising they were the only two people there. The staff had left for the weekend, and Franca and Renzo had offered to bring Nicole and Céline with them to enjoy a weekend at their parents' house on Murano. Their father owned a small glass factory and could make any form, shape or colour before your very eyes. A trade which would no doubt leave little Céline speechless. Erik knew it was also a way for Renzo to introduce Nicole to his family, clever boy!

Turning to his side he noticed Christine still fast asleep. The combination of nerves, wine, followed by their...nocturnal escapades, must have tired her greatly he thought. He thought back to last night. He could not deny he had been very nervous of things to come, happy to drown his doubts with an extra glass of brandy before going to her. He was her husband, he was supposed to be the one to calm her fears, not the other way around. Christine had felt the same, how she had wished to have married him a virgin still!

Later, in the comfort of darkness, she had confessed to him that secretly she had been relieved to know what was to come. Her first experience had been quite nerve-wracking, with no one at the Opera ever preparing her for what was expected, and her husband too drunk to notice or ease her fears. That first night, she admitted, had been quite painful. Not because her husband did not take care, but simply because her body was not yet prepared. Upon hearing her whispered memories, he had been glad to have spared her that. Glad that she had been freed from those pains and nerves, so she had been able to give herself to him freely and unafraid. He realised that the centre between her thighs had gotten more and more fluid as their lovemaking proceeded. Without the initial preparation, he concluded, it was obvious the experience wouldn't have given her any joy. It would have been near impossible to have entered her so fluently.

He looked at her once more, a perfect picture of love and content, the smile he had granted her last night still on her lips, as if her dreams allowed her to relive those moments over and over again. How he loved her! He now understood why she had told him lessons were not necessary. "In love your heart, body and soul become one. They will guide each other. You simply have to let your heart take over your mind, your hands, your mouth, your body." She had been right. THAT he had learned from her!

He softly traced her curling lips with his index finger, watching them curl up even further. He suspected her to be awake, but if she wanted to continue her act, he would gladly indulge her...challenge her. His finger started going down, past her chin to her neck, her collar bones, her breasts...again he immediately noticed her nipples rise from their warm bed, yearning for his play. As his mouth attended them, his hand continued down past her stomach, her belly, her... before he could go on she had pulled him on top of her, suddenly wide awake, her eyes shining.

"Good morning, Signora..."

"Do you not find it very rude to wake your blushing bride so abruptly from her slumbers on the morning past her wedding night?"

"Blushing you say? I wonder what could make my lady blush so? Could it have something to do with the naked man she holds to her bed? Or the acts she performs so happily with him?" His hands continued their caress, as his mouth sought hers. He found her lips welcoming still.

"You told me once, Maestro, that I would be the ruin of you. Do you still find that to be so?" She had slowly started to move her hips underneath him, rubbing against his willing flesh that immediately responded.

"You are a wicked woman indeed. But then again, you are now utterly and completely MY wicked woman and I shall not have to carry the burden of ravishing another man's wife. I suppose that lessons my crimes, would you not agree?" With a smile he concluded he had already steered her beyond the point of answering.

His pounding flesh entered her with more precision and certainty now, knowing its way to her ultimate pleasure. Her legs wrapped around him once more, tilting her hips and begging him closer, deeper. He happily obliged. He noticed his nervous tension from last night to have ebbed away somewhat, steadying his desire, enabling him to continue their play longer without the sudden and all too soon eruption. In the rising light of day he could now see her face, burning with desire, smiling up at him, her eyes dark and wide. He concluded that no image on God's great earth was as beautiful as a woman's face so fueled by passion.

"Signora I see it now, you are indeed blushing."

Once again their passion took over. Erik could not immagine ever being able to leave her bed again. He had accepted the fact that she loved him, he would doubt her love no more. But he would never tire of hearing her say so, nor feeling her yearning body against his own...


	19. Life as it ought to be

**OK, back to finally present you with sum new material! This one starts off with just a little more intimacy, as a little thank you for waiting around so long. It's a little insight into Erik and Christine's married life before the story continues full force!**

**Enjoy, and thanx for bearing with me! -x- Lotte.**

Spring had now turned into full summer, and their wedding day already seemed so long behind them. The house had returned to its usual order, and Venice society had been made aware of their union. Christine was very happy to being addressed as Signora Cristina Alighieri, wife to the renowned architect, rather than the silly noble title that had never held any value to her. She was fervently studying Italian and begged Franca to address her in that language as often as possible, so as to find her way into society as soon as may be. Even Céline already spoke quite some Italian, and Christine stood amazed at how quick such young children adapt to a new language.

Her French was reserved for Erik only, their quiet whispers in the dark in their native tongue. She had grown accustomed in finding him in his chambers at night. Surrounded by piles of drawings and sheet music, his mind wandering in places she could only imagine. Places only the touch of her hand could lure him back from, and she prouded herself in it.

"So where have I found you this time, my love?"

Erik startled at the soft, teasing whispers in his ear. A loose curl dangled down from her back towards his neck, causing him to shiver in contentment. Two hands enfolded her waist and seconds later she was sitting on his lap, kissing him passionately.

"I am struggling with the acoustic effects at the Basilica, my angel. It proves to be more of a conquest than I had anticipated."

He ran a hand along her spine, marveling at the touch of her naked skin above the low-cut waistline of her nightgown. "You are not in the least concerned with my struggles, are you ma chère?"

She slipped her hands under his half-opened shirt, never leaving his eyes. "Not particularly, no. I was rather hoping to offer you a conquest of a different kind..."

He could not recall when exactly she had unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, but before he could speak again he found it lying on the floor behind him. He sought her mouth again, nearly ripping her lace dressing gown from her shoulders, pulling her close to feel the soft silk of her negligé brushing against his chest. Its buttons did not survive his searching hands, now yearningly cupping her breasts. His mouth took over as his hands made their way down, ruining what was left of the beautiful set of lingerie. Knowing he would not last to reach the bedroom, she teasingly unbuttoned his pants, positioning herself over him. His moan of surprise and pleasure was quickly silenced by her full lips on his, her shaking breath setting the pace of their play. She wrapped her whole being around him, allowing him to thrust deeper than ever before.

It was a short, but very satisfying act. With Christine still in his arms, he dimmed the last candles and proceeded to the bedroom where he laid her down, spreading her fine curls around her face on the pillow.

"Now be a good girl just this once, and allow me to seduce you as a husband ought."

For a moment she wanted to protest against the patronising tone he had once more adapted. As if they were back at the Opera House and he had told her. "Be a good girl and repeat your vocal exercises each day..." But the touch of his hands and his mouth, slowly circling its way further down, took her breath away. As his mouth reached the spot she had feared him to search for, she arched up higher still. His hands quickly wrapped around her thighs, caressing them, massaging them, blocking them from pulling away from his touch.

His tongue slowly circled every inch of her warm flesh, and it pleased him to feel her respond to his actions. He was in no hurry, the edge of his desire had already been broken by their first encounter, and he knew he could last a lot longer than she could. Christine had realised that very thing and found she could not resist him. These pleasures were new to her, Raoul had never presumed...Oh God, how good that felt! Her body went limb under his touch, tensing and relaxing in turns. He had already given her two violent climaxes before ending her suffering and his own by slowly making his way back up and entering her now completely fluid body.

"Was that to your enjoyment, my angel?" He knew it had been, but he wanted to hear her say it.

"Yes, oh yes, that was pure heaven. Never before have I..." That conclusion pleased him even more.

"You are lucky to find me a fervent reader then, after all!"

"Promise me it will always be like this!"

"I promise my angel..."

"Promise you will never leave me, never let me be without such pleasures!"

"There is no other worthy of such pleasures my love, my Christine!" By now he had picked up pace, thrusting deeper and with more force, as if to add strength to his vows. He felt her tighten around him, fueling his own desire and before that endless feeling of complete ecstasy took over once more he promised himself to buy her a new negligé in the morning...

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The next day Renzo came into his study, carefully stepping over the piles of drawings that Erik enjoyed displaying about everywhere, including on the floor.

"Maestro, I hoped to talk to you, is now a convenient time?"

Erik smiled at him and urged him to a chair. He already guessed what the topic of their meeting would be, but indulged his young friend none the less.

"You know how much I adore my Nicola, Maestro, and I am the luckiest man on earth in finding her welcoming my love."

Erik nodded. "Blessed indeed Renzo, I speak from experience."

"I...have asked her to consider being my wife, Maestro. Seeing as Nicola has no living relatives, no father to ask, I wanted to ask your permission for our marriage. Of course it would mean no change in our work here at the Palazzo..."

"Of course it would!" Erik voice echoed through the study and for a moment Renzo thought him to be much displeased. Until he saw that wicked smile appear again.

"How can our dear Nicola attend to my daughter if she is far too busy minding her own children?"

Renzo sighed relieved."Thank you Maestro."

Erik embraced him wholeheartedly. "My pleasure Signore Barbari. To think of you as a man with a wife and family. Your parents must be very pleased."

Franca walked in with refreshments, carefully placing them on a corner of the table so as not to ruin any drawings.

"Now Renzo, all we need do now is find a proper husband for your sister, for I fear if we do not drag her out of the Palazzo by the hair every now and then, she will stay locked up here forever tending to our needs as an old maid till her dying days!"

Franca looked up insulted, claiming she was very content with her life and she could very well manage finding her own husband, before embracing her brother on his forthcoming nuptials.

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That night Erik and Christine attended the Opera and were surprised in being greeted by il Conte Baldona himself, inviting them to his box that night. Not wanting to be impolite they decided to accept, even though they had much rather remained at their own seats. The Count turned out to be a much more pleasant sort of man than his wife, who had of course accompanied him. He insisted they call him Fidelio, for there was no false pretence among artists he exclaimed, and offered them a glass of champagne. Christine noticed the Contessa watch her carefully as she accepted, realising that her refusal of the beverage would have fueled new rumors of her being pregnant.

"And how does married life become you, my dear Maestro? I dare say you have made a fortunate match indeed in such a lovely woman!" Erik made no attempt to counterset her praise of Christine.

"And you my dear, look positively radiant! And how could you not be, with such a fine man for a husband. But really dearest, you should try to gain some weight if you wish the Maestro to make you a mother. A frame so delicate as yours can hardly sustain his healthy sons!"

Christine was happy with the fading light for it hid her fervent blush from the Contessa. But Erik already came to her rescue.

"I can assure you my dear Contessa, that la Signora is able to sustain ample...weight just as she is."

Christine quickly had some more champagne to avoid bursting out laughing. She knew exactly what Erik had meant, and by the look on her face she could tell the Contessa was thinking the exact same thing. But before she could scold him for it Erik innocently continued.

"My wife has, after all, gone through childbirth before, and has fulfilled it quite successfully. I dare say with the happy result of the prettiest little angel in the whole of Venice..."

At this the Contessa could do nothing more but praise his love for the child which was not even his own, let alone a girl, and then the start of the performance silenced her completely.

After the show Fidelio escorted them both backstage to meat the Opera's leading stars, before hurrying them into a small office which he claimed as his own.

"The silence of the Opera after hours, my dear friends...Well, seeing as the both of you have lived at one so long, I need not waste your time in describing it to you. In any case, I have a proposal to make of you, my good man. The Board of Directors here at the Opera Classicale has bid me to invite you to join us in our tasks. One of our respected members, Il Duce Fabbrice, has recently passed away and the board wishes to add some..how does one say...young blood to refresh the spririt of this house and her performances. Seeing as you are quite the connaisseur of the arts, having worked at the Paris Opera for as long as you have, being a loved and respected member of Venice Society...it seemed too good an opportunity to pass on. So what do you say, Maestro? It's mostly an honorary position, a meeting every now and then, a small compensation for your efforts, but I can immagine it would bring you great fulfillment..."

Christine had been struggling to follow all of the Count's quick and old fashioned Italian, but understood as much that Erik was being offered a chance to work at the Opera House. Erik beamed at the chance presented before him. Christine's voice needed no more then regular training, and he was restless in losing so much of his music to his architecture. It would be nice to control the Opera and her performances once more, though this time in a somewhat more official manner. "I would be delighted to join you, Signore Fidelio. You may happily convey my acceptance to the Board." And thus Erik had returned to the world of song and dance.


	20. An unexpected song

Christine wandered around her sitting room, twisting a loose curl around her finger nervously as she used to since she was very little. Autumn had brought endless days of rain with nothing left to do but pace. Céline had commenced learning how to read and was thus engaged with Nicole for quite a few hours a day. Erik was now gone practically every day, mostly not returning till very late at night, though appologising profusely for it each time. His mood had not exactly been a happy one of late. The bad weather had taken the pace out of his construction and it frustrated him. His work at the Opera had relit a spark, pulling at him constantly. His study had become an even greater chaos as before, merging architectural drawings with sheets of music, bills, contracts and an occasional affectionate drawing from Céline. For the first time in many a month Christine found herself back in the position of not being able to anticipate his reaction to a certain event. The staff were scolded constantly for the slightest of slips, desperately looking to her for advice which she could not offer.

She herself would tiptoe away from him at times, waiting for his anger to pass. A sad and most likely never passing consequence of a dark past filled with even darker memories, that had shaped his character in such an unpredictable way. Just when all believed things could not get worse, Céline fell ill with the flue. Innocent enough to be sure, but the poor child ran a high fever in no time, nearly collapsing in the hallway while chasing after one of the servants' children. Erik had thought his heart would stop. Her red cheeks, her fine curls stuck to her face with sweat, her irregular breathing. He had sat up with her through the night, a kind favor Céline had happily abused even though Christine had warned him over and over again the child was much better of with plenty of sleep. Neither had had any, causing both of them to be in a very bad state the next morning. Christine had felt she was suddenly the mother of two, plus her staff, and had angrily sent Erik to work, Céline to her slumbers, the staff back to their duties, Franca to the doctor's office, before collapsing in her own room.

For a while now she had noticed the changes in her body. Her favorite foods suddenly did not become her at all, breakfast was passed on completely save a cup of tea. She was tired from nothing and found Céline very heavy to lift, even though the girl had not grown that much. For her birthday in August, Erik had decided to finally redecorate Céline's room completely, brightening it up in happy shades of white, yellow and gold. The girl had been delighted, but Christine had found herself having to leave the room after a few polite minutes, as the smell of fresh paint made her stomach turn. And then her bleeding had not come. Impossible. Ever since the day they had started, her bleedings had been very precise, except... Erik hadn't noticed as most husbands would not, and she had not told him. She wanted to be sure. The last thing she wanted was to give him false hope. But now her second bleeding had failed her as well and the ordeal of this morning had taken too much energy, causing her to vomit heavily as soon as she was by herself. This was not an accidental thing. This was a child growing inside her!

As soon as Dottore Romani entered her room she was with him.

"Don't worry cara Signora, your child is well. A stubborn little patient as most children, but with the medicine I have given her she should improve within a few days. Meanwhile, I must urge you to convince your husband to let her sleep at night." He followed her smile, knowing it would not be an easy task to convince such a strong headed man of anything at all!

"Dottore...there was something else I wanted to ask you..."

The older gentleman sat down, his gentle eyes peering at her over the brim of his glasses. Before she knew it she had told him everything, and the look on his face confirmed all her suspicions.

"I will do a quick check if you allow it Signora, but being a mother yourself I suppose these symptoms are familiar to you?"

Christine smiled, still not sure whether to laugh or cry. "They are, Dottore. But my husband...I would hate to break his heart with news that is not confirmed by yourself. He has wished for this child for so long, not knowing..."

The Dottore knew what she was about to say. "And I have tried to convince him before that his facial deformity has no connections whatsoever with his ability to procreate healthy children Signora, in fact..." He fell silent for a while. "I have informed him I believe his disfigurement the result of a very careless mother."

Christine swallowed hard, seeing Erik's past it would not surprise her. Who knows what his mother might have gone through during her pregnancy, the things she might have done to prevent the child from being born in the first place! The thought alone made her stomach turn. It would have meant her never being with Erik now, not carrying his child now...

She shook her head as the Dottore quietly went to work. Not much later he gazed up at her again in an almost fatherly fashion. "There, Signora, I believe you may congratulate the Maestro on the conception of his first child..."

Now it was impossible for Christine to contain her tears. The Dottore provided her with a tonic to suppress her morning sickness, stressing it was important for her to try and eat as much and as healthy as her condition would allow her, and warned her to enjoy her lazy life as an upper class woman while she could.

"You let your capable staff worry about your household, Signora. I am positive it will do your emotions much good."

After congratulating her once more he left, leaving her in a complete state of confusion. She set down at her desk to write a quick note to Erik, inviting him to an intimate dinner, begging him not to work too late.

It was to no avail. She sat alone at the table, constantly assuring herself he would walk in any minute, knowing he would not. She tossed her food about, trying to eat at least some of it as the Dottore had ordered. Franca started to clear the table, cautiously eying her.

"Was everything to your liking, Signora?"

Christine snorted. "Of course Franca, with my stomach agreeing so well and my husband joining me in such pleasant conversation!"

The briskly shove her chair back, as Franca softly put a hand on her arm. "It is...true then? You are..."

Christine quickly turned at her. "Not a word Franca. Not to a living soul or you will come to face a side of me you will not find so agreeable."

As she heard herself speak the words she already regretted them. She fell into Franca's arms. "I'm sorry Franca, mi scusi. That was not how I intended..."

Franca shook her head. "No worries Signora. Do not trouble yourself. It is not good for you...or your baby." The two women stood and eyed each other for a while.

"I thought I had noticed a change in you Signora, but I wasn't sure. In any case it is only fair for your husband to know first..."

Again Christine snorted, feeling her anger rise and knowing it were her motherly hormones raging. "If he will bother himself in coming home. I am done waiting about for him Franca, I have more important things to care about than the Maestro's obsession with his precious arts!" With that she went up to Céline's room, and upon finding her free of fever and calmly asleep she returned to her own chambers, locking the door behind her.

Christine found herself in an even fouler mood the next day. Sleep had not come to her that night and she knew for fact she had heard a turn of the doorknob, followed by quiet footsteps proceeding down the hallway. It had been far past midnight. She was surprised though to hear that contrary to previous days, the Maestro had not left for work early but was still in bed. Or was presumed to be so, having ordered the staff not to bother him with breakfast in the morning.

Christine didn't mind, that way he would not notice she wasn't having any either. She walked into Céline's room, finding her wide awake. Still very pale and her voice less bright than normal, but happily playing with her dolls.

"Maman, I am better now! Can we go outside to play? Nicole says it is not raining now!"

Christine smiled at her. "That doesn't mean it is warm enough for you to go outside yet. You still have to get a lot better my sweet! Remember when maman was ill, and I had to sleep a lot to get better?" Pouting, knowing her maman was right, Céline nodded her head.

"You are not sick now, are you maman?" Christine frowned, how could she...

"I am very well my sweet, don't worry. Only a little tired. I had a lot of bad dreams last night and I had not your teddybears to comfort me."

Céline tilted her little head. "Then you should have asked papa to sing for you!"

"Indeed you should have dearest, I would have happily obliged you." His voice was dripping with an all too familiar sarcasm. Christine smiled at herself. So, he actually felt insulted to have been locked out? They would indeed have a lot to talk about!

By now he had turned his attention back to Celine. "You look a lot better, my sweet. Did you sleep well?"

Céline nodded proudly, as if that had been a great achievement on her own part. "You look tired too, papa. Did you have bad dreams too?" Children.

"The medicine Dottore Romani gave her works miracles. A good night's sleep seems to have done the rest."

Her words were meant as sneeringly as his own and he seemed to notice, for he turned at her and was about to say something. He doubted, decided not to do so in Céline's presence and hugged the child once more.

"You be a good girl now and take good care of yourself. When you are better again we will go away on the boat together, alright?" Céline immediately dug herself back in her pillows, to convince him of her desire to get well. He turned, only to find Christine had already left the room.

As he walked into her bedroom he noticed her taking a tonic. "You have not caught Céline's flue now, have you? I should have taken better care of you both." It was meant as an appeasing joke, and he was surprised to find her snapping at him.

"Yes, perhaps you should have!" He realised full well she was upset about him missing dinner, and he had no better argument to offer her than completely forgetting the time and dreading the confrontation with her more and more as it grew later.

"I was...very sorry not to see you last night." He put his arms around her but she immediately brushed them away.

"Sorry for not showing up for dinner or sorry for being locked out Erik?" Before he could answer she continued. "Or sorry for yelling at your staff continuously for the last three weeks, or for leaving the entirety of Céline's upbringing in my hands, or for letting me have breakfast, lunch and dinner by myself for days on end, or for spending more time at your cursed Basilica than in your own home with your own family!"

"Watch your tone Christine, you are forgetting yourself and it doesn't exactly become you!" She knew his razor-sharp tone from the Opera. He felt driven back in a corner and ice was now his only means of defense.

"Oh...so I am not allowed to speak truth to my husband? Am I forgetting myself as your humble and obedient wife? Have you no better defense than reminding me of my place as if we were back at your...humble abode at the Paris Opera?"

She had started crying but in her hysterical anger she hadn't even noticed. What she did notice was the blood running away from her head, the pounding of her temples, the sudden lack of breath...and then awakening to the touch of a cool damp cloth on her face and seeing Erik's concerned eyes looking down on her. The look that made ice melt and made her feel utterly silly for flinching at him so. He appologised before she could.

"Shhh...don't speak my angel. There is no need. You were utterly and completely in the right. I have been the worst kind of master and father and husband, and I have absolutely no defense for myself other than my work completely consuming me. This new life Christine...I love it dearly, but in such a short period of time it has tossed around everything I knew, so violently. I suppose I still have to accustom myself to the fact that there is more than just me and my work now. I have a wife, and a child..."

"Two, Erik..."

It had come as no more than a whisper and for a moment he just stared at her. "I'm not sure I understand..."

"Two children my angel." She had said it stronger now, carefully sitting up on the bed, relieved to find Erik's capable hands had already loosened her corset.

He had gone awfully quiet and awfully pale. "You mean..."

He swallowed hard, looking at her, then looking down at her belly, cautiously reaching out a hand. Tears rolled down her eyes once more as she lovingly cradled his hand in her own, guiding it further towards their baby's hiding place.

"I mean I am carrying your child with me and apparently have done so for almost three months now. If you had known a little bit more of the ways of women my dear, you would have realised I would not have scolded you so abominably had not my hormones raged inside of me!"

"Are you certain? I mean...is it confirmed? Did the Dottore...?" He seemed not to have heard a word beyond her telling him of the child's existence.

"The Dottore has visited me as he was here to provide our stubborn little daughter with her medicine. And he could only confirm what my motherly heart had already told me."

Still there was no reaction. Christine now turned towards him, worried. She cradled his face in her hands, making sure he looked straight into her eyes. "It is as certain as a new sunrise each morning my love. I am pregnant with your child, our child, and the both of us are very healthy indeed. You will be the proud father of two beautiful children come next spring."

She felt his tears before she saw them. Before she knew it she was cradled securely in his arms, his warm kisses everywhere, mingling with the violent shaking of his body, crying with a joy and disbelief surpassing the moment of their union.

"I never thought...I never knew...I didn't know, why did I not notice, God Christine, how you must have hated me! I have wronged you so! And all that time..." She hushed him until she found him capable of speaking again.

"Are you happy my love?" She could have read the answer from his face.

"Ecstatic my angel. It was my dearest wish! I mean...I don't mean to imply...Céline is as much my child as she is yours..."

She smiled. "Very well then, you may come up with a way to explain that her prayers have been answered and that she will indeed have a little brother or sister to play with soon!"

Suddenly Erik jumped back into action. "Of course. We must surprise Céline, and the staff, they must know." Suddenly he was pouring out the sweetest of ideas, planning the baby's room and everything. He was becoming a father, and the world would not see it pass unnoticed!


	21. Somehow here again

**Back everyone! After a long wait I proudly present the next two chapters of Destiny, with a solemn promise of more to come. I'm writing like crazy, yet still undecisive whether to continue Destiny or start the next chapters as a seperate sequal as there's gonna be a leap through time...Any ideas on the subject are most welcome! For now: Enjoy, and keep tissues at hand! -x- Lotte.**

Their carriage made its way from Rome to Venice, and they were happy to see the weather improve. The problem of planning their honeymoon so early after the new year they both realised, but it was not to be helped. André had business to attend to in Milan and Rome and seeing that the weather was ever so much warmer there as it had been in Paris, it had not been difficult to convince his bride to join him. He looked at her smilingly as she had dosed off in the pale afternoon sun. A bump in the road abruptly awoke her from her slumbers.

"Have we arrived yet?"

He shook his head. "I estimate another hour at least my darling. Are you exited?"

She nodded. "Nervous I suppose. We have not seen each other these last four years at least. So much has happened...I am so happy we had the opportunity of traveling to Venice dearest. It will be such a nice surprise!"

"So tell me again how you met...Christine was it?"

"Christine was orphaned at a very young age. My mother, being once close to hers, offered to bring her to the Opera House to receive a proper education as well as pursuing a career in ballet. I suppose we were like sisters from the first day she arrived..."

"But she left the Opera?"

"She left the corps de ballet first. She had started vocal training in secret, and excelled in it too. Her tutor arranged for her to obtain a soloist soprano position, after which she was noticed by her husband, the Vicomte de Chagny."

"I have heard of this! Wasn't there a great scandal because he was considered to marry below his standard?"

"I suppose...but the tutor was another factor. He was as much in love with her as the Vicomte, and Christine was forced to make a terrible choice between them!"

"Wasn't that around the time the Opera House burned down?"

"It was, that very night. Christine was hushed away by the Vicomte, and he seemed quite determined from that day forth to keep her as far away from the theatre as possible. What became of the tutor, I did not know. Until maman told me. When I told her about our trip, she suddenly showed me Christine's letter, and I learned that after the Vicomte's death she was taken back into the care of her tutor, and their love blossomed once again. They were married last summer and live in a delightful place by the water!"

"All houses are by the water in Venice, dearest."

"Are they really? Oh, I cannot wait to see it!"

And thus it happened one afternoon that Renzo entered Erik's study, announcing the arrival of a Monsieur and Madame Valmont from Paris, wishing to visit la Signora. A distant relative perhaps? On the boy's side? He walked out towards the hall and met a very familiar face, nervously looking up to him. Though her mother had mentioned him often, she had never known him otherwise than the Opera Ghost. And now he stood before her, a normal man save the mask on his face.

"Little Meg Giry...I cannot believe how much you've grown. You are a spitting image of your mother, dear."

She smiled up at him, unsure of how to reply. "It is Valmont now, Monsieur. I am married of late. Please allow me to introduce my husband, Monsieur André Valmont."

Erik vaguely remembered Marie telling him of her daughter's engagement, but in his care for Christine he had completely forgotten. The boy seemed kind enough.

"Erik Alighieri. Pleasure to make your acquaintance sir. I trust your journey has been well? But I forget my manners, please allow me."

He led them to the sitting room, signaling Franca for refreshments. He learned that André Valmont was in trade, buying and selling textiles from the Orient to Paris and back. He had traveled extensively for his young age, and indicated he was looking forward to sharing all these beautiful places with Meg. When he mentioned he had been to Persia briefly, Erik had found a most beloved topic of conversation.

Meg listened in awe, never realising Erik had traveled that much. She had always assumed him to have lived beneath the Opera House all his life, a fact she conveniently "forgot" to mention to André.

"Christine will be very happy to see you Meg."

Her attention was drawn back to his inquisitive eyes. "How is she Monsieur? It...has been too long since met last."

A smile pierced his face. "I expect her down shortly. She's resting at the moment."

When he saw the worry appear in her eyes he quickly proceeded. "She is pregnant Meg."

Meg could not hide her excitement. "That is wonderful news Monsieur! I know how much Christine loves children! You...would not happen to know what became of her firstborn?" She had always assumed the child to have remained in France with the Chagny family.

Upon hearing the noise from the hall, his eyes lit up again. "All your questions seem to be answered at once, dear!"

A little girl bounced in, holding a bouquet of flowers which she lovingly pushed into Erik's hands. "Look papa, are they not pretty? I found them for maman, do you think she will like?"

Erik took the flowers from her, turning her around. "Say hello to our guests first, Céline." Céline duck away, not being accustomed to strangers about the house.

"And since when are you so shy, ma petite? This is your aunt Meg, and her husband Monsieur Valmont, and they have come all the way from Paris to see us!"

Céline knew Paris. "Is that where we lived before, papa? In the big house?"

"It is my sweet. Aunt Meg is your maman's sister, as you will have a little brother or sister soon."

Céline walked closer to Meg, who held out her hand to the little girl. "Hello Céline, how are you? It is very nice to see you, the last time we met you were only a little baby!"

Now Céline smiled, taking Meg's hand. "My maman is having a baby and she has a very big belly!" She giggled and the ice was broken. She hurled herself up the couch in between Meg and André and told them about her trip into town and the flowers she had picked for her maman with Nicole.

"Nicole is getting married, with Renzo and they will live here and have babies also!" She pouted. "And then she has other babies to play with and not with me!"

Erik chuckled at her upset face. "And then you will have a new nanny to play with you, I told you before Céline!"

Céline grew restless as the adults continued their conversation. "Papa!"

"Céline?"

"Can I go see if maman is awake?"

"Only if you are very careful and very quiet. You can tell her we have friends visiting!"

Céline jumped at such an important assignment, running off, coming back, curtsied at the guests, hugging her papa and was off again.

Christine was already up when she heard Céline enter. "Mamaaan!" So much for quiet.

"Yes, my sweet!"

"Papa wanted to know if you were awake and come down and there are people visiting and they are very nice and papa said you should come too and I picked you flowers by the road but now they are downstairs with papa."

Christine had trouble following Céline's ramblings, and wasn't sure which of the surprises were with her papa, the visitors, the flowers or both.

"We have visitors Céline? From where?"

Céline was impatiently jumping from one leg to the other. "Yes and they have come from Paris, from where we used to live in the big house!"

There was only one friend Christine could immagine would travel all the way from Paris to see her. As quick as her condition allowed her she followed Céline down the stairs, where she could already hear animated conversation drifting in from the sitting room. One look was enough to confirm her hopes.

"Meg...it really is you!"

Meg spun around to find her dear friend waiting for her, indeed very far in her pregnancy. "Christine!" The women embraced for a long time, as Erik and André decided to make a tour of the house.

"Maman told me of your letter. She had not told me for a while, only that you had been sick and that you had been taken to Italy by the Ph..I mean, by Monsieur Erik. She never told me before of their correspondence as she knows he values his privacy. But then I was to travel to Italy and maman said I could not pass the opportunity to see you. Oh, how I've missed you Christine, we both have! Maman was so happy to hear from you, seeing you this happy!"

She caressed Christine's full stomach. "And now this...how delighted you must be!."

Christine hugged her once more. "Not as delighted as seeing you here, Meg. So you are married now?"

Time seemed too short to tell all that had passed. Meg, like herself had grown into a beautiful, self-assured woman. After the demise of the Opera House she had worked as a nanny on several locations before arriving at the Valmont residence and meeting André.

"His parents did not object to him marrying the nanny?"

"Not at all! Well, they did in a sense that his older brother was very loath to part from his daughter's favourite nanny, but André lives a very independent life. He does most of the traveling for his brother's company, and I am more than happy to go with him, I'll gladly follow him to the end of the world!"

By that time the gentlemen had returned and Christine could officially be introduced to Meg's husband. After settling that such good friends should be allowed the ease and comfort of first names, they concluded it was time for dinner.

It almost felt awkward having dinner with more then two. They never had many visitors coming by, save Father Domenico. And now the dining room was once again filled with French, and memories of old. Christine was happy to see Erik at ease with her friends and happily engaging in conversation with André. He was a clever and open man, with a charming bravoure surrounding him. She could see why Meg had fallen in love with him.

As the gentlemen retreated for brandy and cigars, an odd ritual that Christine had not witnessed since leaving Chateau de Chagny, the ladies retreated to Christine's sitting room upstairs. Meg was in awe of its beauty.

"Christine, it is so like you!"

Christine nodded. "And it was ready and waiting for me Meg..."

"You mean...after all these years...he has been waiting for you? That is so romantic Christine! You seem really happy together." As statement Christine could only confirm.

"Is it...different, with Erik? Your life, compared to when you were still with Raoul?"

"Very different. I have found my voice again, Meg. Raoul gave me everything he thought I needed, desired, only to find it were his own needs he was fulfilling."

A teasing light appeared in her eyes. "And I mean that in every sense!"

Meg blushed. "Hush, Christine!"

"I'm sorry."

The girls stared at each other, and found themselves back in their dormitories again, whispering in the dark about love and romance. Meg finally had her friend again, sharing with her the delights of her wedding, her fears of their wedding night which turned out to be wholly unfounded.

"André is very sweet and gentle with me, I have nothing to fear from him. I find myself...enjoying our nights together very much! But you...you have the luxury of comparison Christine!"

"You do not think yourself to be content with one man then Meg, that you need my expertise in comparison?" After all these years she still enjoyed making her friend blush.

"Well then, what I deemed my duty with Raoul, I consider a pleasure and constant craving around Erik. I fear I shall loose my mind completely if I spend one night away from his arms. He owns the one important thing Raoul did not. Passion. I must confess that it has also caused us troubles and grief over time, and I need not tell you of his years at the Opera, but his hardships have shaped him into the wonderful man he is. My husband, my tutor, my child's father and the most excellent lover in the world!"

Both of them were still giggling as Franca came to call them for tea. Blushing, they went downstairs, and as she saw Erik raising a brow she quickly made up an excuse of sitting too close to the blazing fire. Their night ended with many promises of future engagements.

"That was a truly delightful evening!"

"I dare say it was. Little Meg has married a fine man indeed."

She looked up at him as he carefully helped her up the stairs. "I'm glad you agree of him."

Not much later they were enjoying a bath together. It was a ritual they had happily accustomed to and a near daily one at that. Sinking back against Erik's strong chest in the hot water amidst a sea of fragrant bubbles, his hands tenderly massaging her back, her neck, her shoulders, her legs, brought great relief to Christine's aching body..

"Only eight more weeks to go..."

"That is two months my love!"

"I know, but eight weeks makes it sound ever so much shorter! I wish to be released from this burden and meet our child..."

He gently stroke her ever growing belly. "So do I my love."

As he murmured her a song his hands stopped abruptly on the top of her belly. "Did you feel that Christine?"

She laughed. "If you did my angel, so did I!"

"Was it.."

"That was your baby saying hello!"

"You mean it's actually moving?"

He knew his question was completely absurd, but he had found that during the entire process so far, Christine had been angelically patient with all his questions and concerns.

She held out her hands before him. "I expect the baby to be about this big by now...it has its heart, and its lungs, and all its limbs, and apparently a strong set of legs!"

He kissed her damp curls. "It is all a big mystery to me, my love. I'm glad you are here to teach me for I fear I would make a hopeless mess of a father otherwise!"

He teasingly landed his hands upon her swollen breasts. "So...what type of fire causes two young women to blush so?" He had noticed where André in his youthful innocence had not.

"That, my love, is a secret between friends I will never reveal to you!"

As she saw the disappointed look on his face she frowned at him. "It is a secret pact Meg and I made since the day we were old enough to share any secret bigger then having stolen an extra scone for breakfast. What passes between us, stays between us! Though I shall ease your mind in disclosing it contained nothing but praise about our dear husbands."

"He plans to take her to India this spring, crossing Persia on their way..." His voice turned thoughtful as he wrapped her in a large towel.

"Would you like to go back there, my love?" She had noticed his passion in talking of the beautiful oriental country.

"Perhaps I will, one day. I would love to show it to you, but I fear we shall have to wait until the children are old enough to endure such travels..."

"I suppose when we are ready to have children, I shall cease my travels and tend to our home."

"But won't you miss him terribly Meg?"

Meg looked down at her hands, showing she had thought of this before. "I suppose I will, but that was the chance I took in marrying André, was it not? Besides, I will have my beautiful children to keep me company, and maman. André has agreed she may come and live with us, if I wish it! What is it like, Christine? To have a child?"

Christine smiled, it was a question Erik had also asked her, many months ago. "It is the most beautiful experience any woman can have Meg. To hold the result of your mutual love so close to your heart, protecting and nurturing it...It feels so much different though, this second time. When I was carrying Céline I was only hoping for a boy, an heir. Our child's gender and title were so important. It felt as if no one would mind me dying in the process, so long as the boy would be healthy. You should have seen Raoul's face upon finding a girl in my arms. How he fought his disappointment, but to no avail. I was still recovering from childbirth, mesmerised at the darling little angel God had bestowed upon me, and he was already discussing the conception of his son!"

She felt tears coming to her eyes. It were emotions she had not shared with anyone since that day, and dared not share with Erik as she knew how her memories of Raoul hurt him. "How I missed you Meg, how I've missed our conversations!"

Meg hushed her. "It's alright Christine, I am here now. Your daughter is well and dearly loved by her new papa, and you have a second child on the way, waiting to be born and loved!"

Christine nodded. "That's what I mean Meg. I have learned now it makes no difference. In this house all God's children are loved and welcomed. Erik confessed to me desiring a hundred daughters, if all of them are as pretty as Céline!"

Meg giggled. "I hope you have called him a fool for that!"

"I warned him that however he despised the Ballet Rats, he will find a hundred daughters worse as they shall all be fighting for his attention!"

Two days later it was time to say goodbye, with every promise of writing and staying in touch. Meg handed Erik a package.

"They were given to me by my mother Monsieur." She still could not bring herself to call him Erik. "I believe it holds a letter for you, and some belongings she retrieved from the Opera House."

"Thank you Meg. Give her my warmest regards. It was good to see you. I know it has done Christine a lot of good!" He embraced her and she found how Christine was ever so right as to enjoy his touch. He was very warm and strong indeed!

"Christine it has been a pleasure to meet with you. I hope your journeys may bring you back to Paris some day?"

"Perhaps..." She knew it to be sheer impossible as it would surely mean her husband's hanging, but she welcomed André's invitation none the less.

"Farewell then, my world-traveling friend!" She hugged Meg, checking once more if she had not lost the paper with Meg's new address on it.

"Stay safe Christine, I shall pray for you and your baby! I believe your husband will gain a daughter, in fact...I am sure of it!" She looked very confident.

Christine looked up at Erik, but he shook his head. "I have remained among the gypsies long enough to learn never to counterset a woman's feel on childbirth. If your words are true Meg, I fear we shall have to crown you a sightseer!"

And with that, their friends left on their long journey back to Paris...


	22. Dreams coming true

The house had returned to its usual peaceful state after the celebrations of the marriage between Renzo and Nicole. Renzo had finally saved enough money to present his sweetheart with her golden band, and the newly wed Signore and Signora Barbari were on their way to Istria by boat, to spend some intimate days together before resuming their tasks at the household. It was agreed upon that a governess would be hired to tutor Céline. As she was approaching her fifth birthday that summer, she ought to commence a proper and more profound education than the one Nicole was able to provide. Nicole, so long as she had no children of her own to tend to, would assist Christine with the baby after it was born.

The governess was found in the form of a Mademoiselle Simone Lauvet. Originating from Switzerland, she was fluent in Italian and French as well as mastering the English and German language. Her father being an art historian, she had traveled Europe extensively before deciding on a formal position. Her father was getting old, desiring to settle down and Simone had felt an urge of responsibility as to provide the two of them with a proper income.

"I must confess to knowing nothing of music besides the few notes I manage to produce on a pianoforte, Signora. My father was always more engaged in paintings and archeology and has dreadfully lacked on my education on that part I'm afraid!"

Christine had chuckled at her remark. "My father has always done the exact opposite Mademoiselle, teaching me all there was to know of music and no language skills other than what I learned on the road of our travels!"

"I dare say you have picked up nicely over the years, ma chère!"

Erik had entered and abruptly made them change their conversation from Italian into French. He had agreed Christine would assign Céline's governess, but being as he was still fairly uneasy among strangers he could not help but drop in on her interviews every now and then to follow her progress.

"My husband, il Signore Alighieri. Dearest please meet Mademoiselle Simone Lauvet."

"Enchanté Maître. Allow me to confess my deepest admiration on you work on the Santa Maria Formosa. She's quite a beauty, Monsieur!"

He studied her face closely as he took her hand, and found no false pretence in it whatsoever. Nor any shock at finding a masked man before her.

"I was just explaining to Mademoiselle Lauvet that Céline's musical education would be of no concern to her."

Erik now smiled as well. "That I may safely assure you, Mam'zelle. If my daughter proves to possess the same musical talent as her dear mother I shall thoroughly enjoy training her myself."

Simone happily smiled up at them. "Well then, it shall be a great honour to work and live among such great artists!"

And thus the deal was done. Simone proved to be quite strict on her pupil, a thing both Erik and Christine could approve of. Céline had been alone in their admiration for too long and they feared she might turn out to be an insufferable little pout if not corrected in time by someone less partial than her loving parents.

"I am really happy for Céline's progress. She works very hard, Simone tells me!" Christine glowed at Erik, showing him Céline's latest writing exercises.

"She still pouts a great deal and claims Simone to be way too harsh on her, but I dare say we've passed the most trying period!"

Erik kissed her hand while studying Céline's brave attempts to spell her own name. "I dare say she shall have to learn to share attention when the baby has arrived!" As if the child had heard his remark, Christine suddenly fell back in her chair, gasping for breath.

"Christine, my angel what is it?" He thought his heart had plunged down into his stomach entirely.

Christine took a deep breath, turning to him with a curious twinkle in her eyes. "I believe it is time..."

"You mean...?"

"I mean the baby is ready to come!"

Before she could speak any further Erik had her cradled up in his arms, carrying her across the hallway into her own chambers, calling on Franca.

"Get Donata over here, now!"

Donata Firmano di Barbari was Franca's older sister and a very experienced midwife. Like many, she had left Murano and it's glass industry at a young age to try her luck on the mainland of Venice. She had met her husband and had learned her skills from his mother, who had no daughters of her own to pass her knowledge to. Happily dividing her time between caring for her own children and aiding others to bare theirs, she had been the most logical choice to offer to assist Christine. They had met on several occasions and Christine felt very confident around her. She had the same happy air about her as Franca, always speaking her mind very frankly and always putting an expectant mother at ease. Within the hour she had arrived at the Palazzo.

"Well then Signora, your child has been keeping a calendar of its own then?"

Dottore Romani had estimated the child to be born in the last week of April, and it was now the 26th. Christine smiled up at her, unable to answer her due to the next contraction that shot through her lower body.

"Come on then, off your bed! The movement will help warm you muscles and keep your blood circulation at pace. It will help you avoid those dreadful streaks!"

Christine looked up at her in total confusion before slowly getting to her feet. Her doctor in Paris had never seen the need for such rituals. But then she realised it was only logical. At the Opera, when her bleedings had been at their worst, her ballet rehearsals had always lessened the cramps she had felt in her lower abdomen. Erik beheld the spectacle from a distance, not wanting to interfere in matters he knew nothing of. All he could think of was that within the next few hours he would hold his child in his arms and it confused him greatly. Never in those nine moths had he really come to grasp the idea that he was actually becoming a father, save the role he had undertaken on Céline's behalf, and now it seemed there was no escaping the matter.

"Have you been keeping time of the contractions Signora?"

When Christine helplessly looked up at Erik, he noticed he knew the answer without thinking. "Every fifteen minutes. The last one before this one was at twenty to ten exactly."

It was now four minutes to ten, so that seemed correct. Donata gave him an encouraging smile, happy to finally find an expecting father who, if not knowing what he was doing, at least provided a brave attempt.

"Should I..." "By all means stay Maestro, if your lady has no objections...or your stomach for that matter!"

"I can assure you Donata, I have witnessed a fair share of blood and gore in my days..."

Again that teasing smile. "I have seen the bravest of soldiers claiming the exact same thing Maestro, and yet while they seem to have no troubles watching their comrades being shot to pieces on a battlefield, they suddenly tend to faint in seeing their own child coming into the world."

"Please stay Erik!" Her plea was all it took to convince him.

"I'm right here, my angel. I won't leave you, I promise!"

Through her agony, Christine managed to smile up at him. "You had better not! You have bestowed this child upon me Monsieur, I believe it your duty and privilege to aid me in bringing it safely onto this earth!"

She kissed him and hooked her arm through his, continuing her walk about the room as Franca and Donata set out plenty of clean towels and hot water. They were in need of it no more then ten minutes later, as the next contraction came and Christine's water broke...

Midnight had come and gone and the household lay dormant save for the main hallway up the first floor. Franca and Donata continued their supplies of fresh towels, hot water for cleansing, cold water for drinking, and sufficient candles to keep the room alight. Simone had been briefed of the labour, so that she could keep Céline with her should the girl awake early. Erik sat back on the bed, resting against its headboard, cradling Christine against his chest. He had removed his mask some time ago, asking Franca for his tonic which she had quickly fetched him. Neither women seemed to be shocked upon beholding his face, and seeing as it seemed to become a long night, he had left the mask discarded on the vanity across the room. Contractions now came frequent and increasingly stronger, and Donata was content to see the baby's progress. She had been able to establish early on that the baby lay in a perfect, straight position towards the birth canal and thus should encounter no problems. But then again, Christine Alighieri was a frail woman with a fine posture, and that might mean the completion of the ordeal could take some hours still.

Erik felt quite helpless, weary in being in a situation he could not control. He realised everything depended on Christine's strength, and the baby's for that matter. His presence seemed to calm her though, and she told him over and over again how happy she was to have him by her side. He therefore contented himself in wiping her pearled brow and softly singing to her in French, Italian, Farsi or any other song of any language that seemed appropriate for the moment.

"Was your husband present for the birth of your first, Signora?" Donata had meant her question innocently enough, even though Christine was not sure whether she meant Erik or not.

"My..." a contraction cut her breath short. "My late husband, the magnificent Vicomte de Chagny, belonged to your first category of husbands, Donata. Always talking of bravery but hiding downstairs with his brother and a bottle of brandy as I lay in labour of his child!"

Her words had sounded raw and full of sarcasm, and she realised she must have picked up some of it from Erik. She was in fact very tired and weary, and eager for her baby to arrive and the ordeal of its birth to end. She felt Erik wrap his arms around her more steadily, possessively, as if he meant to confirm that he himself was at this point a far better husband as Raoul. Always that element of competition...normally she would have scolded him for it, but right now she was so relieved to feel him near. She closed her eyes and tried to immagine the two of them sitting as they usually did in the large bath together, the warm water around them, his quiet whispers in her ear, his hands on her body...Another contraction cut the memory short, and at last Donata gave her permission to try and push along with the next contraction.

Finally, she thought. This was the familiar part of birth, this was something she knew how to do! She grasped Erik's hands in hers and for a moment he was amazed at the strength in them. Frail as they were, she was nearly crushing his!

"You are doing very well Signora, I can already see the head. Only a little more now and you can meet your baby!"

Christine smiled at Donata's encouraging words. The head was not that much of a problem. She knew the baby's shoulders were still to come! She bit her tongue however so as not to worry Erik too much. Two more, three more pushes...and then the room fell oddly silent...before the first faint cry escaped the baby's lips. Erik knew he had never heard a sweeter sound. His child had been born! He sighed in relief, as did Christine who noticeably relaxed in his arms.

"Maestro, would you like to have the honour of releasing your daughter from her mama?"

"Céline has been granted her wish, Meg was right Erik!"

He saw Christine glancing up at him blissfully, and he kissed her gently before taking the scissors from Donata's hands, cutting the baby's chord. The baby was quickly washed and weighed, before being wrapped warmly in a woolen blanket and presented to her proud parents.

Erik could do nothing but stare, as the child ceased her cries and let her eyes wander. Though still quite blue as with most babies, both of them could already see an emerald dominance in them and her hair clearly did not mirror her mother's. It was a soft layer of golden blond, reflecting the shimmer of the candles and the first streak of daylight passing through the curtains.

"Your daughter Erik, so clearly your daughter!" Christine seemed as much in awe as he was.

"Do you wish to..." He looked at her insecurely, this child was so much smaller than Céline when he had first come to know her.

"Just make sure you hold her head my love, her muscles are not yet that strong!" She carefully handed the precious bundle to him, patiently showing him how to hold her just right.

As she lay in his arms he no longer noticed the tears streaming down his face. Perfect. She was perfect in every aspect. Her golden locks, her bright eyes beholding him so curiously, her little fingers reaching out to him, her little nose wrinkling as one of his tears landed on her cheek... He knew she mirrored him in every aspect, yet he could not believe he himself had arranged for her procreation. How could such beauty ever come from him!

"My beautiful, beautiful child..."

It had been a whisper upon his lips, and Christine found no reply. She knew how important this moment was for him and like in their wedding night, she granted him his silence. Franca and Donata busied themselves in cleaning up, not wanting to disturb this precious moment but being deeply moved by the image before them. They exchanged glances. How dear the reaction of a young father to his firstborn, and how dear the reaction of this particular father to a daughter!

"What shall be her name then, Maestro?"

Christine looked up at him expectantly. They had not discussed names that much, as Erik had claimed he needed to see the child first in order to ascertain which name would fit just right. It was as he was used to doing with his music, never naming a particular piece until the last note was written and sounded just right.

" Aurora. The Greek goddess of the dawn." She noticed him glancing at the window as he had said it, she had indeed brought the dawn with her. " Aurora, it suits her very well, wouldn't you say?"

"Aurora Alighieri, that sounds very noble indeed! Not to mention Céline will be very happy to see you naming her after her favorite princess!" Erik now smiled as well, recalling the girl's fondness for the story of Sleeping Beauty.

"Welcome home, my little Aurora..." He cradled her as if never letting go until the baby started crying uncontrollably, signaling she needed to be fed.

"Perhaps you should try to get some sleep my angel, as I will." His gaze upon Aurora, contently suckling her mother's breast, was broken by her words.

"You expect me to have any sleep at all, after helping you through this night? After looking upon such a child?"

Christine chuckled. "I think I may safely promise you she will still be here in a few hours time my love. We both will. But in a few hours time your other daughter shall awake as well, and I do not see how you shall receive her enthusiasm in your current insomniant state!"

He knew she was right. He kissed her once more before leaving the women to the final stages of their work and retiring to his room. He slept deeper and happier as ever before, dreaming of his daughter's angelic face...

He awoke to another pretty face just above his own. "Papa, are you awake?"

"Now I am, my sweet!" He cradled her on his chest, Céline giggling and trying to get away from his grip.

"Can we go see maman and the baby now, papa?" He looked at the clock, realising it was almost noon and Céline had probably been running about nervously for quite some time.

"I suppose we could. But remember my angel, maman is still very tired and your sister is a very little baby, so you shall be as quiet as a..." "Mouse!" she finished for him. He took her hand as together they made their way back to Christine's room.

Christine had just provided Aurora with another feeding and looked down at her in amazement as she happily lay slumbering against her chest. So different from Céline, and once again so beautiful. And so loved. She had been truly touched by Erik's reaction to her, and it had taken her quite some time to fall asleep.

"My little Aurora..." She could have a hundred more children and would be perfectly content in letting Erik name them!

"Maman, are you awake?"

It was a shy whisper from the corner of the room. Normally Céline had no troubles in bouncing up at her mother but seeing her now, looking so tired and pale, cradling the tiny creature in her lap, made her suddenly very shy. She squeezed her father's hand a little tighter, looking up at him insecurely.

"Go on my sweet, go and meet your little sister. Have you not prayed to see her all these months?" Quietly she made her way over to the bed, balancing on her toes to peek over its high edge until Erik lifted her to sit beside her mother.

"Say hello to Aurora, Céline." She tilted her head a little on hearing the name, then with one more reassuring smile from her papa she cautiously stretched out a finger to caress the baby's cheek. Aurora's eyes immediately fluttered open and wandered in Céline's direction before landing on her face. The little girl quickly withdrew her hand before giggling nervously. "She has eyes like you papa!"


	23. The Opera Ghost at peace

**Hello my dear readers!  
Yes, finally, I'm back! After facing wedding preps, writers block and troubles at work, I finally managed to see ahead in my story and produce the next few chapters! **

For those of you who have been asking for a return of DARK Erik, don't worry. I'll be giving him plenty of reason very shortly! But to let you guys ease back in slowly and comfortably, I will start with just one chapter for now. We will make a little quantum leap into the future, and catch up with our heroes some eightteen years after...

Enjoy, and please review! it helps cure writers block immensly! -x- Lotte.

Erik sat in the doorway of the library leading to the garden. The spring air was still cool, but warm enough to enjoy. On the far end of the lawn he could see Christine wandering around the roses, trimming their hems to perfection as to ensure the fullest of buds this summer. The song she was singing to herself was one he wrote for her many years past and he was surprised she still recalled its words. He closed his eyes for a second. His life was perfect indeed...Her quiet humming was rudely overpowered by a much louder voice coming from the hallway however.

"Well then, I will go tell papa and he will teach you for pestering me so!"

The next moment the door flew open and in ran Aurora, her face flushed: "Papa! Tell Matteo to leave me alone and find something more useful to do with his time then following me around, please tell him!"

She pouted. Where his daughters got that pout from he didn't know. Oh yes he did, from their mother, only she had long left the gesture to her youth.

"What's the matter now then?" He gave both Aurora and Matteo a strict look.

"I just wanted to go with Aurora to the Opera House father. Signore Ravalli might let me practice with the orchestra as he did last time!"

Aurora fumed: "I have a career to think of Matteo. I can't tow my little brother around like a babysitter all day!"

"Enough!" They both fell quiet, knowing better then to counterset their father in a mood like this.

"This day has only just started and already you two have managed to give me a headache. Now. Aurora you will cease your superior behavior right now or I shall forbid you to attend rehearsals altogether, writing an ever so gentle note to Signore Torelli how I am unconvinced my daughter is ready for the responsabilities as leading soprano."

Aurora gasped. He wouldn't! But as always, she knew he would. It was both a blessing and a curse having a father on the board of the Opera!

"Matteo, you may join your sister at the Opera house so long as you tend to your musical studies alone and do not bother her during her rehearsals. Understood?"

"Yes father, thank you father!" He gave his sister a teasing look before scattering off to retrieve his violin from his room.

Aurora was still standing in the middle of the room, pouting. Erik strolled up to her, rubbing her cheek. "Put that smile back on your face my angel. It suits you much better."

"You aren't really going to pull me out of the play, are you papa?"

"So long as you work hard and do not trot about as the next divinity, I shall not. You are only just beginning your career Aurora. A little modesty might do you some good hm?"

The gentlest of smiles and his daughter was back to her usual happy self. "You are right, I'm sorry papa. But Matteo..."

"Matteo has as much of a talent for music as you have, my dear. It will be very good for his training if he has the chance to work with the Opera orchestra every now and then. And you know if I tell him no he will persuit you in any case angel. He's inherited my stubbornnes in that, I'm afraid!"

She sighed: "But if he so much tries to talk with me or my friends I shall whip him!"

"I have no doubt of it angel, and neither does your brother. Now go before you are late. Leading ladies are never late to claim their spotlight right?" A brief kiss and she was off, sending the room back into it's blissful silence again.

"Is this what you meant father?"

He looked over at the desk where Luca was still working on his sketch, seemingly unmoved by his sibling's outburst in front of him. His oldest son's stoic countenance made him laugh at times!

"Yes, that looks very well, Luca. Now if you proceed with the left wing, I think you shall find you'll have no further troubles there."

He returned to his chair, Christine now almost at the terrace and walking over to him: "Was that another outburst of our Diva, dear?"

He just rolled his eyes at her. "Perhaps I should work the gardens for you and let you handle our adolescent children for a while. I seem to be getting to old for this." From the corner of his eye he saw Luca raise an eyebrow, saying nothing. Christine laughed, planting a kiss on his head.

"Need I remind you that you have five children, one of whom has left the country for quite some time now, one is a master of silence like yourself, and one is too young yet to cause you any troubles besides which colour of flowers to pick you? That makes a modest two out of five who, I fear, both have inherited your temper!"

Erik smiled. All in all, he indeed had not much to complain about. If someone had told him twenty years back how his life would have looked this day, he would have claimed them insane. Or killed them for that matter. Now he was a man of nearly sixty, renowned architect and valued composer and member of the board of directors at the Venice Opera Classicale. But first and formost loving husband, and father to five highly accomplished children.

Céline had trained hard enough at ballet to join the corps in Venice, but after growing restless accepted an invitation from her aunt Meg to reside in Paris for a while. From her letters, Erik could deduct Céline to be very impressed by the city, and even seemed to be very much in love with a young tenor at no less than the renowned Opera Populaire. She was, perhaps, more of a Parisienne at heart than he had at first believed her to be. A Chagny after all...But still, she was now almost twenty three and had devoted more than enough of her years to the arts. Perhaps despite the pain it caused his heart, he needed to allow her to find her own path in life.

Aurora had inherited her mother's pure voice, though perhaps not her modesty. A factor Erik constantly sought to remedy. After some smaller parts in the Opera Chorus, she was now to sing her first lead at eightteen, and it filled him with pride. She had many suitors begging for her attention, but half of them were shunned by the girl herself and the other half easily disposed of by her father without her knowledge. He knew he was being selfish, but she was after all his firstborn, and therefor very special to him. He could not allow himself to part with her yet, nor could he find any inclination in her sweet character she wished to be away from him.

Luca had at sixteen become a close friend, next to being his oldest son. The boy had no real talent or interest in music, but had started devouring every book in the library from a very young age, and had turned out to be quite the mathematician. An autodiduct for the most part, he was now aiding his younger siblings to their education, while he himself had commenced to train with his father as an architect. Solemn and quiet, ever thoughtful, he was jokingly called a bore by his older sisters, but Erik recognised that quiet streek more than anything and thoroughly enjoyed their time together. It was in those quiet moments that Luca showed his true nature, having inherited all of his father's dry humor and showing a broad interest on a variety of subjects...except girls. Stunning, Erik thought. Here was a young man with all his good looks, his broad shoulders and tall build, his golden hair and emerald eyes...all he could have been save his deformity...and yet while he himself had done naught but yearn for a woman's touch throughout his days, Luca seemed much more at ease in a library than at the occasional balls and assemblies his mother dragged him along to.

Now Matteo was his mother's boy. A wild head of dark curls that refused to be tamed, always impatient for the joys and adventures life would bring him, his dark eyes shining in delight with every new experience. He had started piano lessons at a young age, as had all his siblings, but soon found himself drawn to the violin. A talent he could have inherited on both sides, though Erik clearly saw a Daaé in him. Finding no common interests with his older brother, and his younger sister lacking behind by four years, he stuck to Aurora like glue to be allowed entrance to the marvels of the Opera House. The conductor, a Signore Ravalli, had recognised his talent and allowed him every so often to practise with some of the Opera's violinists, a marvelous chance indeed for a fourteen year old boy. Aurora was less pleased of course, but being a woman of the arts herself could not in her heart deny her younger brother his love of music and therefor, with the occasional tantrum, allowed him to come.

And then there was Giulia. His youngest, at ten, and not really expected after already fathering four children. But there she was that sunny autumn day, a little baby with dark curls and matching eyes, looking up at him in complete adoration. Christine's labour had been difficult to say the least, keeping her to her bed another five weeks after, but the result had been as rewarding as the others. When his older children's adolescent troubles seemed to torment him out of his wits he would take his little girl into town, or to the park to pick her flowers and sing her songs. She was now the same age as Christine had been when he had first encountered her, and she resembled her mother even more as Céline had done. For even when younger, Raoul's inheritence could be felt in Céline. Open and talkative, curious to discover the world and for the world to discover her. Giulia however was as quiet and shy as her mother had been, feeling perfectly at ease to sit with Luca and himself in the library all day drawing pictures and writing stories, instead of going out to play.

"Papa?" There she was again, sticking her curly head around the door.

"Yes, my sweet?"

"There is a letter from Céline...can I come read it to you and Luca? Maman has already, and Aurora and Matteo..." Clearly she missed someone to talk to.

"Of course you can, close the door behind you then." Signaling Luca to drop his pen for a while and show interest, he pulled the little girl onto his lap as she started to unfold the letter:

_"Dear papa and maman and my dear siblings,_

_I am happy to tell you this shall be my last letter to you before commencing my journey back to Venice.I have been away from you all for far too long, and can of course not find it in my heart to miss Aurora's debut at the Opera House! Paris is very cold and dreary and I long to feel the warmth of Venice again. So I shall travel from my roots once more and bore you for days on end with tales of my adventures."_

"This next part she writes I should better not tell you, but mama said I could and Céline is just being silly." A serious frown on her little face as she continued to decypher her older sister's elegant handwriting:

_"Perhaps you would be wise as to not yet inform papa of my travelling companion. He is my dear Roger, coming to meet you all. Rest assured maman, that my uncle shall be travelling with us on his way to the Orient, therefor our journey shall be perfectly acceptable. But you know how papa can be in such matters and I fear him leaving you all this instant to travel ahead for fear of what might become of my virtue."_

Looking up he could see the smirk on Luca's face broadening, but the boy was wise enough to say nothing of his sister's jest, which held quite a lot of truth in it.

_"Roger's mother has, on many occasions, expressed a desire to meet with you all, but I explained to her how our different careers and schedules, as well as Giulia's tender age, might prevent you all from coming."_

"Does she mean I am too young to travel to Paris, papa?" She sounded quite dissapointed.

"There are many matters keeping us from travelling to Paris, ma chère. I think Céline is just using you as an excuse to Monsieur Roger's mother. Don't worry your pretty head about it." He could hardly tell them of his dark past now, could he? Although after almost twenty five years, who would remember the Opera Ghost?

_"If heaven, and the weather for that matter, look kindly upon our travels, I shall arrive around the second week of April thus allowing me to be in time for Aurora's birthday. Please know that till then, you are all in my heart and my prayers and I long to hold you near again!_

_Your most affectionate daughter and sister,_

_Céline Alighieri._"

"That's a pretty letter, is it not papa?"Giulia sighed and twisted her little hands in admiration. "I wish I would have such a pretty hand one day!"

"Oh, but you shall little midget. And if not, father and I shall teach you!"

Giulia frowned at Luca: "I am not a midget!"

Erik rolled his eyes, afraid another outburst would start until Luca quickly assigned Giulia to some writing assignment to help her on her way, and the library once again fell into utter bliss.


	24. Trouble ahead

**Hey everyone! I guess this chapter will be the beginning of the end, LOL! Oh, and like any passionate author I live off reviews, and I'm very sad to see their numbers decreasing! I suck at baking cookies, but I will happily try should anyone be kind enough to leave me their thoughts! Enjoy! -x- Lotte.**

"There you are! Next time you decide to seclude yourself, please be so kind as to inform at least one person of your whereabouts. You could have slipped and broken your neck and no one would have known where to look for you!" Luca looked up at Aurora making her way down the slippery rocks along the waterfront, hitching her skirts up high.

"You found me didn't you?"

"Yes, after maman had given up and papa suggested I might find you here! Really Luca, if you ever want to find yourself a wife of sorts you should learn to mingle in society more instead of sitting here throwing rocks about!"

"Has Céline arrived yet?" Quickly avoiding her remarks about marriage, he followed her into the house.

"Not yet, but they sent word from Vicenza yesterday late, so they should be arriving any moment now. Please get dressed up and play pretty for a bit, I beg you. Maman is very nervous about all of this, and papa has fallen into his usual quiet streak."

"Why would mother be nervous? I thought Célines return would be a joyous occasion."

Aurora let out a deep you-know-nothing-of-women sigh. "Because Roger is travelling with her from France, silly! There can be only one reason for him to undertake such a long journey with her, and that is to ask papa for Céline's hand. And you know how papa can be with strangers, especially if they're after his daughters!"

And so, with a minor tantrum or two, the entire Alighieri family stood out in the courtyard as André Valmont's carriage arrived that late afternoon. Erik was happy his brother-in-law had been traveling with the young lovers for as usual, he did not trust the boy's intentions one bit. Looking over at Christine and seeing her happy, hopeful glance, he quickly drew a welcoming smile to his face and decided to try once again to give to boy a fair chance.

"Papa!" A year older and a year prettier, Céline threw herself into his arms. He hadn't realised till now how much he had missed her.

"It's good to have you home, my sweet."

She gave him a glowing smile: "It's good to be back home, papa!"

She turned around with a blush on her face, drawing her suitor nearer: "Papa, maman, may I introduce Monsieur Roger DuChamps?"

The boy bowed at Christine and offered his hand to Erik: "Pleasure to make your acquaintance Madame, Monsieur." A noble born and bred, Erik could almost smell it on him. But Céline clearly adressed him as "Monsieur" and the average nobleman's son would not persue a career at the Opera...

"The pleasure is all ours, I assure you. Please, let's not linger here outdoors. I have refreshments awaiting us inside!" Christine ushered everyone inside, Erik following at a short distance.

"So, how is everyone? Is Aurora ready for her debut? Has my brother yet managed to find a girl who will not fall asleep during his lectures on architecture?"

A polite laughter ran across the room, Luca simply smirked and said nothing. Erik was struck by the harshness in Céline's remark. Much as she and Aurora used to tease their brother, they would never look down on his talents. Céline's change in demeanor reminded him all too vividly of the Ballet Rats squirming around in the Opera's dormitories, and he hoped his instinct would prove wrong. Right now it was telling him her stay in Paris had not exactly aided his girl into becoming a wiser person.

"Luca is helping father on his newest project! They're adding a wing to the Law Academy!" Matteo could always be relied on to stand up for his brother. They might not have many interests in common, they were brothers after all and surrounded by three sisters!

André immediately jumped at the occasion to question both of them on the matter, and asked to see the plans. Erik, intercepting a quiet invitation to a private meeting, happily obliged.

"It's good to see you again."

"The same to you...I must confess I was not at all inconvenienced in my role as chaperone...but seeing as we are here now, I take it you understood as much."

"The boy?"

"Kind, and wooing and love-smuthering to all he encounters. And, I confess, not a bad tenor in the least."

"But?"

"There is something I cannot fully put my finger on. Something he is very keen on hiding..."

"His family?"

"That is what I mean. I know he lives alone with his mother, the father apparently unknown."

"A nobleman's bastard." His instincts had been right after all.

"He may very well be. He prefers not to speak of it however and seems very...grateful and devoted to his mother. A quality worth praising, you will agree. But for a young man of such simple background he seems to be spending an awful lot of money, especially on Céline. I know little from the world of Opera Erik, but from what Meg has told me the artists do not make much money unless they should be so fortunate as to obtain a solist position, a thing Roger has not yet managed to achieve. The money he spends may therefor be considered...savings perhaps, but why waste one's last resources on a woman, unless he means to impress her...needs to impress her?"

"You suspect him to be a scavenger?"

"I believe it could be so. To tell you the truth you are the first and only to whom I have related any of my suspicions...Meg adores him, as will Christine no doubt. The lad can throw in a charm if needs to. But Céline is a dear girl, nay young woman, and I suppose her father -he stressed the word- can do more with these claims as I can."

Erik pondered their conversation, sending a warm smile in André's direction. "Thank you for sharing this with me. I'm happy to see my child so well looked after."

André gave him a friendly nod: "My pleasure. We have always been good friends, you and I. I would expect nothing less from one so close to me."

It made Erik realise once more how his family extended further than his household, and how he should remember that more often for future occasions.


	25. Games of make believe

He took a deep breath, allowing the smoke of his sigarette to escape between his teeth. Things had gone well, for a first attempt at civility. The women of the household were simpletons, as was to be expected from Céline's own behaviour, the men -if allowed to be called that at such a tender age- cautious. The father hostile, but this too, was no new phenomena. He'd seen it all before. Signore Alighieri seemed happy to find him a singer however, and was not at all displeased with his voice. A matter which, Céline had assured him, was very rare indeed as her father hardly ever bestowed his good opinion at first glance.

"There you are! Do come inside dearest, I will not have you freezing out here!"

She happily threw herself into his arms and he let her. She was not his most difficult conquest by far. No, she would suit him very well. Her pretty fysique, her frail lines, her willing mouth...Yet he could not help but feel somewhat restless after this first dinner. An unexpected delight had entered his plans in the shape of...a luscious younger sister! Golden curls, hypnotical eyes, curves by far rounder than Céline's well trained body... Aurora Alighieri was a Diva in the making, and he pitied himself for not having made her acquaintance sooner. Still, one plan did not necessarily exclude the other. He could have his fun either way.

"You do love to look after me, don't you my sweet? Whatever was to become of me without you?" He sent her a sparkling smile at which she naturally swooned and graciously received his far from proper kisses. "Come, we must return, before your father thinks me to be the ruin of you!" He smiled inwardly. No need for the old man to discover the truth...yet.

"Céline seems very happy, wouldn't you say?"

He gave her a short, tired smile before returning his attention to the papers in front of him. She frowned before rolling her eyes at him.

"I see...so what's the crime this time, dearest?"

Erik shrudded his shoulders. "I don't know. Perhaps you are right, perhaps I am simply a withered old man too loathe to part from his oldest daughter."

Christine sat herself down on his lap, embracing him. "Perhaps you are, my love. Much as I have learned to trust your good judgement in many matters, this might be one field of expertise at which your views are slightly...coloured."

"Does she not seem...changed to you at all?" He was hoping Christine had noticed as well for if not, he would seriously have to deem himself paranoid.

"I suppose she has changed...but isn't it logical Erik? She's a grown woman now, and has gained a new sense of what the world has to offer her. She's expanded her career, she's fallen in love...I know first-hand how that can change one's views on life."

She kissed him, reminding him once again how deep and special their bond was. "At least promise you shall give him a fair chance. I know you want to see Céline happy, and I know you actually admire Roger's voice, so...perhaps..."

He kissed her once more, never tiring of the feel of her lips on his: "I shall promise you, my angel. If not for anything else, than for my love for you, and our beautiful children..."


	26. Let your darker side give in

**OK people, another shorty, just to get you guys acquainted with our newest sleezeball! Don't worry, you guys can help Erik punjab him afterwards... Cookies for reviews, as always! -x- Lotte.**

Palazzo Persico still lay quiet in the early morning hours as one man silently made his way through the dark corridors. He had been up for a while. Never needing much sleep, he had decided to seek out Céline's room, hoping for a secret rendezvous before having to conform to the restraints of family life once more. At the Opera house things were so much easier. As a soloist Céline had her own room, conveniently far from the remaining ballet rats. That way he could seek her out to woo her, yet continue his brief encounters with little Sophie without her knowing of it. Some ladies were made to marry, some to sleep with. If Sophie could help him cool his desires until Céline was truly his, well then why not enjoy such a convenient compromise.

Here in Italy however, life was not that simple. Servants popping up in all the wrong places and a whole family up and about, heartily welcoming him into their circle... and seriously confining him in his freedom to do as he pleased. He was happy to find Céline so attached to Paris, for he knew an eternity of this would drive him mad. The sooner he would obtain her father's permission, the better. They would leave and, with a little luck, never return again. Céline's family in their turn seemed very reluctant to travel to Paris, and all Céline had managed to tell him about it was that both her parents had quite a few painful memories of their days there.

Roger DuChamps knew all about painful memories, although he preferred calling them skeletons in a closet. And those, he knew, were always convenient to have at hand should anything occur to cross his plan.

Just a few more doors and he would have reached his destination...had not a sudden voice lured him in the opposite direction. A voice singing the sweetest of songs, making his artistic heart weep with longing. He had to follow it to see what angel would produce such sounds, although he could already guess the answer. He made his way to the downstairs parlor which he recognised to be the music room. He had performed there yesterday evening for the family. He now found it empty, save for the one person he would never loathe to see.

"Mademoiselle, I bid you good morning..." Her voice abruptly stopped.

"Monsieur DuChamps, you startled me..." Her round eyes shone up at him, her bosom still heaving from her exertion only moments earlier.

"Oh, I must beg your pardon, I assure you that was the last of my intentions. I simply could not help following the sound of your voice to seek out its owner...you truly have a most magnificent sound, my dear sister..."

Instead of crooning into his compliments, she nervously lifted her brow at him. "You are too kind I'm sure. And I do not believe we are to be brother and sister just yet, would you not agree?"

She knew he could not possibly have spoken to her father just yet, and apparently did not agree to his attempt at familiarity. Yet her distance and reluctance drew him in like a moth to a flame.

"True. I hope you will join me in my wish, for that joyous day to arrive speedily however."

She offered him a cautious smile. "It would give me great joy to see Céline that fortunate indeed..."

He stepped closer, too close for propriety to allow it, and instinctively she backed away from him somewhat. The pianoforte blocked her path however. She stood eying him nervously as he looked her up and down before connecting with her eyes once more. She could feel his breath on her face and it made her feel very uncomfortable.

"Indeed, I would very much like to see more of you, Mademoiselle...I'm looking forward to your debut on stage." he quickly added, so as not to frighten her away into scandalous assumptions.

Yes, he would make sure to see more of her. In fact he could already immagine her beneath him, panting in lust, begging him to take her. But not now. Not yet. He could hear plates being set out in the dining room next door and quickly offered her a radiant smile.

"Shall we go to breakfast then? I'm sure you must be famished after such straining rehearsals..."

After carefully studying his face once more, she drew another smile on her face and politely accepted his hand. Oh yes, this would be a most gratifying hunt indeed...


	27. Breach of trust

Céline wandered about the house aimlessly. Much as she had wished for her return to Venice, to her family, she could not deny to feeling restless. Life at the Opera Populaire offered her diversions at any hour of the day, whether it be dress rehearsal, training, spending time with Roger...Her father had invited him to accompany him to the Opera Classicale, and he had happily accepted. Knowing this might give him an opportunity to speak with her father in private, to discuss the one thing she had been dreaming of these many months, had kept her from travelling with them.

But with Aurora rehearsing there as well, and her mother taking her afternoon rest upstairs, she felt bored and quite lonely. Walking into the library she found her two brothers, working on some mathematical problem together. Matteo, as usual, could not master the same attention and interest for the subject as Luca, and their lesson seemed to be heading towards an argument.

"Oh for heaven's sake you two, be quiet! If you cannot get along, then why bother to study together at all?"

The two fell silent, looking up at her in surprise, and she immediately understood they did not appreciate her intervention. Subconciously her remark had driven them back onto the same side however, which was now shielded against her.

"You can sit with me if you like, I have lemonade..." upon turning she noticed her youngest sister standing in the doorway towards the garden, looking at her insecurely. Young as she was Giulia seemed to comprehend her need for company, and she happily accepted.

"So what are you drawing there?" Pouring herself a glass of cool orange lemonade, she peered over to her sister's drawings, trying to show a genuine interest.

"I am making a drawing of the Opera House, with Aurora singing. See? There's papa and maman looking, and Luca and Matteo and me and you."

"It looks very pretty dearest. You should draw Monsieur DuChamps in there as well. I'm sure he would much appreciate it..."

A sudden gloom seemed to pour over Giulia's face as she frowned, picking up her crayon to add more blue to her mother's gown: "I will not. I do not like him and he shall not be in my drawing. Only our family can be in my drawing..."

Céline was taken aback by her sister's words. "Why do you not like Monsieur Roger my sweet? Has he not been kind to you?" She could clearly remember Roger's attempts at conversation with Giulia, even complimenting her on her drawing skills.

"He...nothing, I simply don't like him." Giulia bent over her drawing a little deeper, and seemed to want to speak no more of the matter.

Céline gave her an affectionate smile: "You know, my relationship with Monsieur Roger will not change anything between us Giulia. I will still be your big sister and I will write you as often as I always did. You musn't worry dearest!"

Suddenly the little girl jerked up her head: "You're going away again? With him? You're not going to stay?"

Céline doubted for a while before continuing: "Well, yes, I suppose so. Monsieur Roger and myself both have our work in Paris, and many friends..."

"But you cannot! I will never see you again! He said so! He said so!" Céline was worried at the girls sudden outburst and pulled her close: "What happened dearest? Please, I wish you would tell me!"

"Monsieur DuChamps, he told me! I was asking him about Paris and he was very unkind, and then I said I didn't like him and he said he didn't like me either, and that if I were not to behave a proper young lady he would make sure I would never see you again for he loathed the sight of me! Céline, what does it mean, loathed? Tell me he was wrong, I don't want to be away from you forever. Please don't go away, please, please..."

Céline's blood ran cold as she pondered Giulia's words. Surely there must have been some misunderstanding. Surely Roger had not said all this, or perhaps Giulia had completely misinterpreted his words! "There, there, dearest. I will talk to Monsieur Roger about this as soon as he and papa return alright? I am sure he did not mean anything of the sort. We won't be parted forever, you musn't think that my sweet. You are my darling little angel remember? My youngest sister and nothing anyone can say or do shall ever change that!"

By now the girl had luckily stopped crying. "Now...why don't you make me a fine drawing, just of the two of us alright? One I may take with me when I return to Paris, so that I may show all my friends how much my little sister has grown..."

"I am telling the truth you know. You may ask Aurora for I know she dislikes him as much as I do..."

As Giulia started her new drawing Céline sat back in her chair, the sun suddenly having no more effect on her temperature.

"What have you been telling Giulia?"

Aurora turned around from her dressing table, looking up at her older sister in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"Giulia has suddenly decided she does not like Roger. I've been wondering how such a young girl could develop such feelings overnight. At first, I even immagined Roger had truly said something to hurt her, until she told me YOU did not like him either. So I'm asking you, what type of nonsense have you been filling her head with?"

Aurora sat frozen, blinking her eyes at her sister's sudden anger. "I have told her nothing of the kind! It's true, my first impression of your...particular friend has not exactly been a good one, but I have only confided this to her after she had come to me with her own story...she did tell you of Roger's cruelty towards her, didn't she?"

"That does not matter to me now. I am far more interested to learn your side of this story. Why is everyone suddenly so eager to turn against my fiancé?"

Aurora turned back to her mirror, running her brush through her hair with short, irritated strokes. "He is not yet your fiancé Céline, nor should I be so confident he will be any time soon..."

"Has he talked to papa today?" Much as she loathed her sister's attitude right now, she was eager to learn anything she might know of Roger's dealings with their father.

"He did. They talked in private, in papa's office. You may find out more from Monsieur DuChamps himself. From the looks on their faces on our way home however, I gathered the conversation did not go exactly as it ought to have gone..."

"That still hasn't answered my question. What is your problem with Roger? What harm has he ever done you?"

Aurora stood up now and started pacing the room, almost nervous looking. "He...makes me very uncomfortable Céline, that is all. He...I don't know, a certain look he will give me, the compliments he pays me, the way he steps in to kiss my hand...It's almost as if he...wants something of me." She sighed. There, she had said it. But to her surprise her sister did not sympathise with her, but only turned angrier.

"You are attracted to him aren't you? You're jealous of my happiness, you want him...you want him for yourself!"

Shocked at her accusations Aurora shook her head, making her blond curls bounce around her face: "That is not true. Céline, how could you say such a thing! I am merely trying to warn you, that perhaps Roger's heart does not ache for you as much as he has led you to believe!"

Céline slowly backed out of the room, pale as a ghost: "I cannot believe what I'm hearing. I will not stand here and listen to this nonsense. Nor will I allow you to accuse my fiancé of such crimes. You'll stay away from him, or I will know of it, I promise!"

And with that she ran along the corridor to her own room, leaving Aurora in tears of shock. In the shadows, a dark figure could only smile. Good. Céline's most loyal confidante was put on a sidetrack. That would make her detachment only more easy. From now on, Céline would not believe a word she'd tell her, and it only aided him further in his plan.

His conversation with the father had not exactly been as he had hoped it to be. After politely allowing him to pour out his well rehearsed sentiments for Céline, the older man had simply given him a blank look and had stated he was unwilling to allow his daughter to start off her new life with someone he had known for only such a short time. He had asked him suspicious questions about his life, his family, his means of supporting Céline. It had frustrated him to no point, shouldn't a father be happy to rid himself of his daughters? Signore Alighieri didn't seem to share his sentiment. He had allowed him to stay in Italy for a while, perhaps even train at the Opera Classicale for a while. He would review his opinion after that time.

Roger had of course no other choice than to pretend to admire the man's affection for his child, and had bravely stated to understand his decision completely. In reality however, he knew the time had come to close the net around his beautiful bride as soon as may be. Plans were to be set in motion, and their departure to be prepared. This argument with darling Aurora therefor had come at a most opportune time. With any luck, he realised, he could simply let this family fight their own battles without creating any risk on his own behalf.

Then, when all were in uproar, ties forever severed, he would be the one she would cling to for comfort. And he would be waiting to deliver her from sorrow. To take away her problems, her protection, her virginity, her money...and enjoy her for as long as he found use for her. And so he made his way down the corridor after her, ready to comfort his lady before leading her down to another tedious dinner party...


	28. Of dreams and insecurities

**Yes, I know, don't kill the author! I've been away for much too long, and I do appologise for those of you dying to find out what would happen to our favorite villain. Well, unfortunately not much...yet. Still lurking I'm afraid! So let's pick up where we left off, and see how Aurora will do on her big dream debut at the Opera Classicale! Enjoy! -x- Lotte.**

The room was pink. The girl inside it, trying to continue her vocal excersises while three maids scrurried around her with make-up and hairbrushes, was equally so. Mozart had always excelled at creating just the right amount of cotton candy to keep his audiences happy, and "Il Muto" was no exception. The whole spectacle resembled an all too familiar scene from his former home, though it seemed a lifetime ago. The fact however, that his sweet Aurora was chosen, not forced into the role of the Contessa, made him proud beyond words.

A note was hit, then abruptly cut short, followed by an irritated shake of the head. "No, no...that's not right.." and then another deep and nervous sigh. He merely opened the door of the room, and with one stern look the maids suddenly seemed to have disappeared into thin air, leaving the room in a blissful silence.

"Why so nervous, my dear little diva?"

She stood up from her seat, wringing her hands before throwing herself into his arms. "Oh papa, it will be allright will it not? Do I really sound well enough? Such a grand venue, and a full house at that! I so hope not to disappoint anyone...to disappoint you, and maman..."

He held her tight, not caring how her white facial powder must stain his dark velvet coat. "You have nothing to fear my sweet. You've rightfully earned your place in the spotlights, trained so hard and disciplined for so many years, no one out there tonight shall find anything but pleasure in hearing you. As for your mother and I, well I fear we are difficult people to disappoint..."

"Did maman ever sing "Il Muto" papa? When you were working together at the Opera in Paris?" He doubted for a moment, not sure what to tell her.

"Let us say she was more than ready to do so. But the managers, fools that they were, preferred another lady to fill those shoes. Your maman was however, the finest Serafino I have seen in my years."

She frowned her pretty brow. "Serafino? The silent part? That must have been very painful, after training so hard for the role of Comtesse." He merely nodded, if only she were to know the depths of his pain that night.

"I know it makes her very proud to see you bring the part back into our family, my sweet."

At that moment Giulia came bursting in, much more enthusiastic than usual, her red cheeks betraying it was already far past her usual bedtime. " Aurora! This is such a pretty place! You must love working here!"

With a sigh of relief Erik realised his youngest had managed to touch the core of life at the Opera, the fun and exitement of it, and eventually the reward of your loyal audience.

Aurora relaxed as well, beaming proudly at her sister. "It is very beautiful, is it not? But how did you manage to find your way up here? You could have gotten lost, dearest!"

Giulia shook her head confidently. "Matteo knows all the hallways back here, he showed me. At first we had to come through a very dark passage, but Luca came too and then I was no longer afraid for he can see very well in the dark and never loses his balance!"

Upon looking up she indeed saw her two brothers standing in the doorway, smiling sheepishly, not sure whether they'd be allowed entrance. "Mother said we were allowed father, for Giulia was desperate to see more and Céline would dearly like to talk in private...to maman and Monsieur Duchamps, that is." Luca spoke quietly, indicating clearly his oldest sister had once again chosen to shun her younger siblings.

Upon hearing Céline's name, Erik immediately noticed Aurora's smile drop and her nervosity return. He gave his other children an affectionate smile. "You may go and explore some more if you wish, just so long as you keep track of time and return to the box in time for the performance. I need to talk to Aurora a bit longer..." The tone of his voice clearly indicating his desire for them to leave, Luca quickly nodded before ushering his younger siblings out, challenging Matteo to show them more of the secret passageways he seemed to know so well.

"Did something happen between you and Céline, Aurora? I got the impression, this morning at breakfast, that the two of you were...not exactly on the best of terms?"

Again the nervous fidgeting with her lace, before she dared look up at him again. "We had a bit of an argument, that is all..."

He could only immagine one factor which might have seperated the two sisters, for they were usually as thick as blood, reminding him of his dear Christine and her Meg. "This would not have to do with Monsieur DuChamp's presence in our home, does it?"

She sighed. "I'm not sure I like Monsieur DuChamps so well, papa. He...seems to be lurking wherever I am, even going so far as attending my rehearsals here at the Opera these last few days. Yesterday he claimed he was merely here by accident, for he had an appointment with you, while I knew all along that you were not even at the Opera yesterday due to your inspection of the Law faculty."

Erik nodded, he too had noticed Roger's interest in Aurora, yet remembering Christine's hopeful smile and the promise he had made her, he had tried to convince himself the boy was merely attracted to her stunning voice.

"Then, I passed Giulia's bedroom two days ago and the poor girl was in a wretched state indeed. When she finally confided in me she told me how Monsieur DuChamps had been most unkind to her and had basically threatened to take Céline away from her for good. I need not tell you how fond Giulia is of Céline, and she was terrified she would never see her again. It was then, that I told her I myself was having doubts of Monsieur's intentions, and how we...well, YOU, would never allow such a thing to happen, upon which I managed to send her off into slumber. Somehow Céline found out what I had said and marched into my room the very next evening, accusing me of being jealous, and wishing to have her beloved Roger for myself. But I desire no such thing papa! All I ever wanted was for her to be happy..."

A grim expression passed over her father's face as her pulled her close once more. He knew this was not the right time for her to worry about these matters. "Never fear for Céline, my dear. I shall look out for her as I always have. And from what I have seen and heard so far, Monsieur DuChamps shall not be doing any marrying whatsoever anytime soon. For now, I wish you to remain focused on your performance alright? Tonight belongs to you, not your confused sister nor her overly eager suitor..."

And with that, he lead her back into her vocal warm up, while he finally attended to dusting his coat back to its original midnight black...

The performance was going well. Erik and Christine could do nothing but exchange overjoyed glances as their daughter outshone all who surrounded her on stage. She lived and breathed her part, a quality very rare in one so young, and it made Christine realise once more that no matter how hard Erik had wished it that night, she herself would never have been able to perfom the part in such a way. She turned to Erik once more, almost chuckling at his overly confident, near arrogant appearance which reminded her so of his days at the Opera Populaire. Aurora's triumph was his triumph however, and he had just cause to be as proud of himself as he was of his daughter.

Her gaze wandered to her other children, clearly enjoying themselves save one. Céline seemed very anxious, and restless. What's worse, she continued to try and gain the attention of her young suitor, yet was disappointed in finding him far more interested in the stage, or rather the young lady occupying it. Earlier in the evening, as the others had gone off on a ghost hunt backstage, she had tried to talk with her mother, begging her to talk to her father and make him see reason. She longed to be married to Roger as much as he was...or was he? Suddenly she felt so terribly cold and alone. The feelings that had begun to attack her a year back, her reason for leaving Venice to find herself again in Paris, returned to her full force. A feeling of never truly belonging. Of being an outsider in such a close family. Being only the "adopted" daughter and the "half-sister", even though her younger brothers and sisters would never address her as such.

Jealousy slowly but steadily replaced her sadness for something much stronger, anger. Anger at her mother for leaving Paris, and the memories of her family. Anger at her father for dying before she had had a chance to get to know him, to see if they shared any trades in character her new father obviously did not. Anger for Aurora for stealing away her parents' attention with her cursed Siren's voice.

A voice she longed to have yet never managed to obtain. A voice that was now even haunting her Roger, enthralling him. What was she but a fallen angel, a downcast noblesse with no money and no extraordinary talents? And so she clung to Roger's hand once more, relieved to finally see him look up at her with his confident smile, brushing his warm lips against hers in the near dark before returning his attention to the opera. Yes, he was her lifeline, he would save her from her solitude and make her happy and accepted. He had said so. He had promised. And no person in the world would seperate him from her, not even her family...


	29. Denied me and betrayed me

**Hello again my dear readers! Well, this is it, events will be set into motion that cannot be undone after today! I would like to take this opportunity to once again thank everyone of you for your wonderful reviews and remarks,I hope to be able to repay you in continuing this lovely adventure!**

**I also like to tip you on two stories I'm currently assisting on as beta: Milegre's _Inversion_ and Dawnstag's _Rising from the Ashes_. Give these ladies a hand up and check out their amazing work! Oh, and leave them a review obviously, as any author knows how sweet that feels...**

**Back to Venice now, get back on the roller coaster everyone, cause it's about to leave! -x- Lotte.**

The hallways backstage were claustrophobically crowded after the performance. Relatives, patrons, press, servants, all pushing past each other trying to reach that particular person they wished to congratulate or aid in their escape from the Opera House. Young Aurora Alighieri had been an unexpected triumph indeed, and Erik was held up by his fellow directors much longer than he wished to be. He wanted to go to his daughter and quietly share in her success, a success they had accomplished together over their many hours of careful practice. Rolling his eyes at Christine, he motioned for her to go on ahead, both of them not entirely sure where all of their children had scattered off to.

Céline had pushed ahead of her mother somewhat, feeling a slight panic at having lost Roger in the crowd. He did not know this Opera House as they did, and she prayed he would not lose his way. Little was she to know however, Roger had already reached his intended destination long before anyone had found him missing…

Aurora sighed at the sudden silence surrounding her in her dressing room. HER dressing room! Instead of having to share her accommodations with two or three other singers as she would have in the chorus, she now enjoyed every privilege of a soloist. A Prima Donna. And with pride she realised it was unlikely she would be removed from this room any time soon. What a success her night had been! How she wished to see her family, and have a big dinner to celebrate! She welcomed the knock on the door with a radiant smile, until she realised it was only her sister's suitor entering. Pulling her robe somewhat tighter around her, uncomfortable at being so scarcely dressed in front of him, she quietly searched his face.

"Monsieur DuChamps…where…I had expected to see my family…"

"I believe they will be here shortly, the crowds outside are astonishing to say the least…" He was silent for a while, continuing his approach of her until she was backed up against the wall, similarly to that morning in the music room.

"But then again, I have found so many astonishing things here in fair Venice, my darling Aurora…" A lazy finger pushed a golden lock back behind her ear before continuing down towards her neck and her collarbone, causing her to shiver.

"I'm not sure I..." But the finger landed on her lips instead, silencing her.

"Your sister is right, you know. You truly are a Siren. A lovely, haunting creature binding all her listeners to her…seducing them into the impurest of thoughts…"

Aurora's heart beated wildly beneath her tightening chest. Dear God, let me be rid of this man! What did he want with her? Why could he not be with Céline and be happy, instead of hovering over her like this, drowning her in his unwanted attentions.

"Monsieur I think it is best that you leave, my sister will be worried for you and I need to finish dressing..."

Instead of discouraging him, he seemed mildly amused by her attempts to dissuade him. "Why such hurry dearest? Do you not wish to know what rewards I come to offer for your brilliant performance?"

He closed the space between them now completely, making her shamefully aware of his desire for her. His hands landed on her hips, pulling her closer as he huskily whispered in her ear. "I promise it will be very rewarding indeed, and your sister need never know of it at all…it shall be our little secret my darling Siren." And with that his mouth crashed on hers violently.

For a moment she was too shocked to react, before a blind fear and panic overtook her and she attempted at pushing him away from her. He seized her wrists however, keeping them locked against his chest while continuing to pry open her lips with his vicious tongue. She wanted to shout, run, anything to be away from him, her mind racing as to how far he would attempt to take this…until a sudden sob made him pull back, and both of them were staring into the tear stained face of Céline.

"Dearest I… Aurora, she…don't be upset my sweet, it was nothing, nothing at all. I'm sure your sister meant no harm…" Aurora could only stare from one to the other, still too shocked about what had happened and how sudden it had ended. Until Roger's words started filtering through and the horrific realisation dawned on her that he was blaming her for this, suggesting she had just now seduced him behind her sister's back!

"Céline no, I…" but a slap across the face from her enraged older sister silenced her before she could say another word.

"Do not ever attempt to speak to me again you harlot! And to think I loved you once, trusted you…my own sister! How could you Aurora, how! Why must you try and take from me the thing I hold dearest in life? You already have everything you heart could ever desire and still you yearn for more, why? How could you!"

"What's going on here?" The three of them turned at the dangerously low and booming sound of Erik's voice, and noticed only then that by now their entire family was watching. The boys silent and gloomy, their mother trying to comfort dear Giulia who was sobbing of fright at the outburst of her older sisters right in front of her.

" Aurora thought it amusing to try and seduce my fiancé, right under my very nose in this little brothel of hers…" The words were spat out as vicious as anyone present had ever heard the young woman speak.

Aurora could find no words to defend herself, an angry red handprint beginning to colour her pale, tear stained cheek. She merely shook her head in disbelief, searching her father's eyes for some form of protection.

"Monsieur I suggest you escort your fiancée back to the docks. I believe the fresh air might calm her nerves. Christine ma chère please take the children, I will see to it that Aurora gets home…" As always, no one argued with Erik's calm commands and after another short interlude with his wife, and a kiss for his youngest child, the crowd dispersed to make their way back home.

Gentle hands picked Aurora up from the floor where she had crumpled a sobbing mess. Shushing words as a dress was pulled over her head and closed at the back, making her feel warmer instantly. A tissue running along her cheeks to stop the tears from falling.

"Papa, I did not…I never…"

"Hush my angel, I know. I've known from the beginning. I should have been here. Damn those insolent fools for keeping me from reaching you in time!"

"But Céline…"

"Céline is angry and confused my sweet. She does not know what she says. I'm sure when morning comes she will see reason and appologise for her harsh words…"

But in truth he very much doubted if this would be the case. The entire journey home, Aurora having fallen asleep in his arms, he pined the change in Céline that seemed to have arisen so suddenly, and he hated himself for not having been able to do anything about it. It was the boy. The arrogant fop that had dared make a move on his child, God knows for what reason. But no more. No marriage would take place. The boy would leave in the morning and Céline would come to see reason!

--------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm afraid we shall have to have our celebration dinner without its guest of honour tonight." Their silent reveries were abruptly broken by Erik's entry to the dining room. " Aurora has decided to retreat for the night, the whole…spectacle seems to have drained her immensely…"

Céline needed only to look up at him to know his mind on the matter. Of course he would side with Aurora, how could she ever have expected him to see reason? After all, daddy's little angel could never do any harm!

"Well, all the better, my dinner shall be so much more agreeable without her!"

"Céline I will say this once, and only once. We shall not discuss any of this tonight, nor in the presence of your younger siblings. I will see you and your sister, as well as Monsieur DuChamps, in my study tomorrow morning and that will be final."

Erik's tone of voice once more demanded no countersetting. Curious eyes turned to her but nothing more was spoken as the dishes we brought out on the table. For a while peace seemed to have returned to the house, as Giulia jumped up from her seat and lightly tapped her water glass with her spoon, as she had seen her father do on numerous occasions. Winking at each other, the others all fell silent, raising their glasses to acknowledge her attempt to a toast.

"I would like to make a toast to my dear sister Aurora for singing so beautiful at the Opera tonight, and for having to miss her party now, and for papa for teaching her how to sing so well!" Everyone raised their glasses once more as the common "Salute" echoed around, except for Céline who smacked down her wine glass quite abruptly, snorting in contempt.

"Céline, will you not oblige your sister in sharing her toast?" Her mother's quiet voice rang clear across the table, attempting to brighten the sad gloom that had passed on Giulia's face upon seeing Céline's disapproval of her efforts.

Suddenly Céline stood up, raising her own glass for a toast. "To my sister Aurora, the best actress in the world for letting me believe she ever truly cared for me, and to my father, for indulging her at every whim, and closing his eyes to the obvious truth of her deceit!"

A sudden drop of temperature was felt in the room as all fell quiet, nervously shooting glances from father to daughter. Everyone, including Céline, realised she had pushed her father's patience too far this time and no one could doubt the repercussions that were about to be taken.

"Sit yourself Céline." His voice was flat and betrayed no sign of emotion. As she remained standing however, staring back at him defiantly, his voice dropped even lower, his annoyance and anger at her behavior no longer hidden.

"I said sit yourself Céline, at least try and behave the proper young lady your mother and I have attempted to raise…"

"Attempted? Oh yes, what a disappointment I must be to you…father. All your life you've tried to steer my mind to your liking, only to find you cannot truly rid me of my true nature, now can you? To find his presence in my character still!"

"Céline, please do not do this, not here, not now…" Christine suddenly started to realise where this was heading, and could only guess the outcome of such a battle. After so many years, dear God! Céline had only been three years old! What had happened to her in Paris?

"Please ma chère, let her finish. I would dearly like to hear what our beloved Céline has to say. What would be so important to her that she wishes to ruin everyone's evening with her blurred thoughts and opinions…" Erik's voice had turned to ice by now, making Christine fear the worst. There was still a big gap between Erik's usual gloominess, his sudden yet short bursts of anger and…she shivered to remember.

"Very well then. Only that I am tired of being bullied into a life that is not to my own heart's desire. To lead the life you wish me to have. When will I finally be allowed to make my own decisions? And what right have you to decide my life when you are not the one who gave me this life in the first place?"

Her sibling's eyes turned big, carefully shifting from their mother to their father, none daring to ask if Céline was indeed implying what they thought she was.

"Why will you not allow Roger and I to be married? Is he not good enough for me? Because my family is from a higher class as his? My father was a nobleman, and he chose to marry an Opera singer, and no one thought worse of him for it!"

Christine could only stare at her daughter, where did all these stories come from? In all her years, Céline had shown nothing but disinterest for her father and her descent, she had loved Erik so dearly…

Erik however, managed to remain completely calm under her venomous attack. "You are correct my dear, I have explained to Monsieur DuChamps he needed to prove he is worthy of you before obtaining my consent to your marriage. His rank or position in life however, had nothing to do with this. And this latest…event regarding your sister has not exactly helped him on his way of approval I dare say." With this he sent a cold glare at Roger, making him realise that though his beloved might be in the dark, he himself knew exactly how this story truly went.

"Oh yes of course, because naturally it was all his doing and Aurora was merely an innocent victim right? Why can you never see fault in her? Is it because she is your own and I am but an inconvenience my mother happened to bring along when she came to you? A hateful reminder of your dislike of Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny?"

"Maman, who is Raoul de Chagny?" It was a mere whisper on Matteo's lips, being utterly confused by the argument playing out before him.

"You attempt to accuse me of partiality? When you yourself are clearly so besotted with the boy by your side that you prefer to overlook his wandering eye? I have no other wish than to see you happy Céline, which is the exact reason this marriage has not yet taken place, nor is it likely to anytime soon!"

"You could not be farther from the truth! You have no idea what it feels like to be completely and utterly alone in the world, do you? To wander without knowing your course, your background, your history? To feel like you're screaming for love and attention and no one will hear you, busy as they are with their own, selfish lives? Roger loves me for who I am, not for the talents you seem to think I am lacking!"

Erik's posture was tense in withheld anger now, and Christine sat dumbfounded as her daughter spat out all the anger and frustration she had obviously felt for years yet never bothered to share with anyone. So this was her solution? Attempting to find all answers with her deceased father?

"Do not presume to understand what I do or do not feel, you ignorant girl. You speak of matters you have no knowledge of with a sole purpose to hurt and disgrace those around you, yet all it will ruin is your own good name. In that, I will confess, you are very much your father's daughter my dear Céline, brava!"

For a moment she could only stare at him blankly, surprised perhaps she had finally evoked a response of him concerning her real father. It was also the first time however, he had openly revealed his dislike for her and his words hit her like bullets from a gun. She had been right then in leaving, for he had clearly never loved her at all.

Meanwhile Erik felt himself being pushed towards a dangerous cliff, one he had not encountered for many a year, and he feared it. How he had attempted not to let this argument stray in that direction, to stay calm before his family, but Céline's ignorant, selfish complaints and accusations had struck him deeper than anything. He took his glass, as if to swallow his bitterness and anger with his wine, when her next words rang out cold and emotionless.

"Your heart is as twisted and withered as your miserable face…"

Christine felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach, suddenly having no breath left at all, as a shattering sound broke the deafening silence.

The wineglass that had rested in Erik's hand had no longer been able to resist the pressure his clenching fist applied to it, causing the elegant hand blown bell to explode into a thousand fragments, the wine spattering from it indiscernible from the blood that now ran from his hand.

Erik said nothing, he merely stared down at his hand with an odd mix of surprise and amusement written on his face. Luca had jumped up to assist his father, carefully attempting to remove the shards of glass from his hand before clumsily wrapping it in the white linen napkin that had rested on his knees only moments before. Christine knew right then and there a chord inside her dear Erik had snapped, and nothing she could say or do now would mend what was broken. He had been driven once again to the edge of his abyss and her daughter, Raoul's daughter, had just given him a final push.

Looking up from comforting Giulia, who was by now hysteric in fear and confusion, she noticed Erik had pushed Luca aside and had risen from his chair, slowly looking up at Céline who by now had cowered away from him somewhat. The girl had realised her mistake. Too late. With a voice that seemed to echo twenty years back, he spoke his verdict over her.

"Very well child. If your affection towards your unfaithful lover is thus strong, I suggest you return to Paris to ask your dear father's permission for your marriage. I'm sure his rotting corpse will be happy to oblige you. Bonsoir Mademoiselle de Chagny, I wish you God's speed on your journey home!" And with that he calmly strode out of the room, not looking back once at the confused group of people he had left behind.

Céline turned to her mother, unsure of what to say, hoping to find any sign of sympathy from the woman who had been her closest companion since birth. Christine however, could only let her silent tears fall down as she stared at her child blankly, no longer recognising the girl she raised to a woman.

"What have you done? God help us Céline, what have you done?"


	30. Help me say goodbye

**Ok, ok, ok! (still gasping for breath after running from angry mob). You're as upset with Céline as I am, I get it! I will kindly remind you all that I'm a happy ending junkie, so don't worry! There's no way Monsieur DuChamps will leave this theatre alive! But in order to find the light at the end we'll have to pass through that dark tunnel first...so get out those flashlights and watch where you put your feet down! Enjoy! -x- Lotte.**

The grandfather's clock in the foyer had just struck two and Palazzo Persico mirrored the mood of its inhabitants: dark and silent. On the upper floor only two people were awake, quietly attending their duties by the shy light of a single candle.

Céline had cried herself to sleep, until just after midnight Roger had suddenly been by her side to wake her. "Are you well enough to travel my love?" He had looked so genuinely concerned for her, bless him! He had cradled her cheek in his hand and she had leaned into it, gazing up at him with sleepy eyes.

"Travel? How do you mean? Tonight?" His eyes had turned almost apologetic and he had sighed softly, as if finding it difficult to continue.

"Correct me if I am wrong my darling, but it seems our presence here is not exactly… welcomed that much for the moment, is it? Your father made his feelings very clear tonight, he will never permit us to marry…as long as we remain under his protective guard that is. He will be more likely to withdraw his hospitality toward me entirely and send me on my way to Paris by myself before long. I cannot bear to be parted with you my darling, surely you must see that…surely you will feel the sane…"

Céline had turned pale, her breath leaving her at the thought of losing her beloved Roger. His words had made sense, Erik Alighieri was a resentful man and she could easily envision him throwing Roger out on the street while sending her to live in a convent to repent for her sins. No, that would not do, it would not do at all!

"Roger I'm so frightened…what are we to do? If I lose you it will be the end of me…I will have no one left in this world to love or care for me!"

"Hush my love, no such things need happen. No matter how hard others may try you and I shall not be parted, correct?" His confidence had inspired her, quickly drying her newly formed tears and smiling up at him in adoration.

"Very well, that's my girl. Now we need to act quickly. Pack one bag and one alone, carrying your most beloved possessions. You need not worry for clothes for I will buy you anything your heart could ever desire when we arrive back home in Paris as husband and wife…"

Her heart had stopped at his words. He was serious, he still wanted to marry her! And so after a few moments of intimacy he had returned to his room, leaving her to pack whatever she felt needed for their secret elopement.

She now looked around the room that had been her own for so many years. The bright colours of yellow and white her father had chosen for her so long ago, the fresh flowers her mother always brought her, the many collectables referring to her passion for the ballet, the teddy bears that had always made her feel safe against the dangers of the dark. She picked up one of them, stroking his head affectionately. "Are you ready to return with me to France, my dear Mouf Mouf? To go back home?"

Mouf Mouf was her oldest toy. Apparently her father, her real father, had bought him for her for her second birthday whilst on his way home from a long business trip. As his train had arrived at the Gare du Nord, it was the first thing he had found that would be suitable for his little girl and as he had told her of the bear's former home, she had replied with the only words she knew of trains: Mouf Mouf, the sound of their horn. To this day she still felt it to be the only remaining sign of her father's affection she owned, and thus dragged the poor being along to every single place she ever ventured to.

She lovingly placed the ageing bear atop of her other possessions and after scanning the room one last time, she closed her bag as if to close another chapter in her whirlwind life. Céline Alighieri, née de Chagny, would be no more. She would be Madame DuChamps, to live by Roger's side as his wife and one companion, never to feel lonely again. The pitiful little ballet rat would disappear into the shadows as if she had been nothing but a bad dream to a grown up, self assured woman.

"Are you ready my love? Our carriage will be waiting for us by the docks of the city walls, I've arranged for a boat to bring us there…" Roger stood by her door, eagerly awaiting her. She was about to follow him as her eye landed on the drawing Giulia had made her only days ago. How different her life had seemed only then! Quickly she opened her bag one last time, giving the drawing to Mouf Mouf for safe keeping, before turning and following her betrothed to where their boat awaited…

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The next morning Christine needed only to walk into her daughter's room to realise she was no longer there, and had no doubt of what had happened. She sank to the floor quietly, her tears falling without a sound. Raoul had taken his revenge upon her after all…


	31. The Angel in Hell

**Dear readers,  
Your authoress is sorry to announce that due to the overload on letters and mails, applications for the "We hate Céline, she's such a bitch" fanclub have been put to a screeching halt for now! P**

**Let her leave with her fop if she wants to, back in Venice another Alighieri kid will start playing a more important role in our story from now on! Yes, ok, I will start taking applications for the "We love Luca, he's so hot" fanclub as of today...But only if you leave me enough reviews!**

**Enjoy! -x- Lotte.**

The members of the committee looked somewhat annoyed as a young man entered their office, apparently all by himself.

"Yes?"

Luca sighed and subconsciously wiped his sweaty palms along the sides of his dark trousers before stepping forward.

"Luca Alighieri, signori. I am here on behalf of my father to present you with his…our latest drawings. They are the technical designs for the left wing of the Academy and I was under the impression you needed them quite urgently?"

One of the older gentlemen in front of him raised a suspicious brow. "Oh yes, the Maestro's son, are you not? And you father is unable to attend today, is he?"

Luca nodded. "I am sorry to say his…illness will not allow him to leave the palazzo at present. I do believe however my knowledge of the project is sufficient to assist you in any way possible." He raised his chin proudly; trying to sound calm and confident, hoping the board members would accept his explanation for his father's absence.

Truth was no one had seen or heard from Erik since that dreadful night now almost a week ago. He had stubbornly secluded himself to his chambers, avoiding all contact with the outside world. Even Christine could no longer reach him and Luca had found his mother surprisingly calm under the fact, if not deeply hurt.

One night, as Giulia was already sleeping and Matteo was up in his room, drowning out his grief with his music, Aurora and Luca had gently pried at their mother to tell them her story. So many new facts had been presented to them, and their father's behavior was so as they had never witnessed before. Surely there must be some form of explanation to be had! After a while she had given in, slowly relating the secrets her heart had harbored for so many years. Secrets, she had explained, she had hoped never to need bother her children with. Their father's childhood, their early acquaintance at the Paris Opera, the dreadful battle for her affections that had initially been won by the Vicomte de Chagny, Céline's biological father. Their reunion, their wonderful new life together…until Céline had decided for some unknown reason to destroy their safe world and allow the Opera Ghost to return in full splendour.

"But surely maman…there has to be a way…a way to make papa wake from this nightmare! He must know Céline would never speak those words from her heart, unless that useless excuse for a man had put her up to such a thing!" Aurora's plea had only made her smile wearily.

"I suppose he does know…but she spoke them none the less. As her mother did so many years ago, inspired by another young suitor. Can you not see dearest? The one and only thing your dear father has ever feared in his life, is betrayal. A loved one turning from him. Not deeming him good enough for their company.

And he responded to it the only way he has ever known how, by rebuilding the wall around his heart to ensure it won't be broken again. And nothing you or I will say or do can break it down again. Only time will tell if he will ever return to us again as the kind and caring man we know and love…"

And that was what they were doing now, waiting for signs of improvement. They seemed to be there, albeit very infrequently. Every now and then a note would come, requesting food or drink which Christine took as a positive sign as she knew that was usually the first thing he would deny himself.

Once Matteo awoke in the morning to find a finished score of a new song lying on his desk, with a stoic note in his father's elegant hand requesting that he would study it. It was a beautiful haunting melody and from the note the boy received a day later, giving him credit for grasping the difficult piece so quickly, all gathered that Erik was still watching their every move from hiding.

Last night, Aurora had found her mother sitting in front of her father's door, softly whispering against the dark wood, begging him to see reason and return to her, comfort her. Oh, how she needed him! But in the morning she had found only a lovely scenting red rose by her side, adorned with his signature black silk ribbon, and a sad note attached to it. It contained only a few words:

_I cannot. Please forgive me._

And so Luca had set out by himself, gathering their drawings from the library to visit the Law Faculty alone. Even though he had not received any instructions from his father he felt this was the right thing to do. In his grief he might have simply forgotten the date of their appointment and he knew his father would suffer even more should their sacred works go unsupervised.

"These look remarkably well, my boy. Just as we had envisioned and blending very well with the existing parts so far. We can safely grant you permission to execute. Please convey our approval to the Maestro, if you will, and wish him a speedy recovery."

And that was all. With a polite curtsy Luca gathered up the drawings once more to continue his journey to the construction site. With a new found self-assurance, he instructed the workmen before rushing home, reporting back to his father the only way he knew how at this point, by letter:

_Our drawings were approved.  
__Construction of the left wing will start at dawn tomorrow.  
__Your son, L.A._

A reply came almost instant, as he returned to his room after dinner to retire for the night:

_You have done well. I am proud of you.  
__Your father, E.A._

It was then the boy realised there might be a way to lure his father from his shell…


	32. What answer can I give?

**Thank you again for all the great reviews! All new members of the Luca Alighieri fanclub will receive their signed pictures asap...if I can find where he's hidden himself that is...he tends to have taken that talent to disappear from his daddy I'm afraid! Oh well, here's another Luca-filled chappie to make it up to you!**

**In loving dedication to my baby sis Beth aka DawnStag for being the toughest girl I know and always "Rising from the Ashes" no matter how hard a certain person (whose name we will never utter again) tries to kick her down in it! I wuv you hunnie! -x- Lotte.**

Just as the family sat down to dinner on the evening of the seventh day, a letter was brought to Christine which read the following:

_Orléans, le 2ieme mai 1895_

_My dear Monsieur and Madame Alighieri,_

_I hope to find all your family in excellent health upon reception of this letter. It has been far too long since I have had the opportunity to write you, and it pleases me to have such a happy reason for doing so. _

_Only three days ago I was visited by my former protégée, your dear daughter Céline, and her husband monsieur DuChamps. They were on their way back to Paris they told me, after a short honeymoon through Europe starting from your home, and decided to pass my humble home here in beautiful Orléans to enquire after my health and happiness. They explained to me how their traveling had left them short on funds for the time being, and inquired if they may be so bold as to reside with me and mine for a few days before continuing their journey. I of course happily agreed and we spent some happy times together, chatting up on all sorts of news._

_They seemed very much in love, although weary from traveling but I immagine Céline's demure will improve upon starting her own household and settling down. She told me how sorry she was to be giving up her beloved ballet, but agreed with me that a chorus is certainly no place for a married woman of ranking, and that the anticipation of children will soon fill her life with other joys. Monsieur Roger has every intention of continuing his career at the Opera House and hopes to soon make for soloist, thus increasing his fame and income accordingly._

_My dear employers, I wish you joy on such a dear match! It must be a splendid thing indeed to see a beloved daughter so happily settled in life._

_With all my love and heartfelt congratulations,_

_Simone Besson née Lauvet._

Although sweet and heartfelt, the letter came as somewhat of a shock to all of them. As Luca reread the letter his mother had now passed to him and his sister, he could not help but smirk. Their former governess' tidings offered them some very important clues as to Monsieur and Madame DuChamps' living conditions, and he realised their initial pink cloud might already be dissolving. And then what? Would Céline indeed set up a happy household? And would her Roger share it with her as a loyal husband ought? A glance at Aurora taught him she was obviously of the same mind and he gave her a short nod. He would speak to their father about this tonight, one way or the other!

--------------------------------------------------------------

Erik could no longer remember how long he had been sitting at his piano, pounding away mercilessly on a new piece before ripping it all up and starting again. No melody seemed to be able to capture his mood, which seemed to alter quicker than he had ever experienced before. Demons long locked away had forced their way to the surface again the very moment Céline had spat out her venomous words, and they happily mingled with the angels that had attempted to guard him all these years. Anger, hate, pity, sadness, despair, revenge, and an ultimate longing for peace, flowed through his veins. And so he did what he had always done, he played and played till his body was numb and his thoughts were drowned out by the dramatic tones of his instrument.

"Father…"

The sudden touch of a hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his reverie so suddenly that he flew up and pinned the unexpected visitor to the wall, hand at his throat, ready to strangle the life out of him.

"Father please, it's me…Luca…" As the red haze lifted from his eyes he recognised the now panicking green eyes of his oldest boy, and he quickly withdrew as if burned.

"What are you doing here? Did I not instruct to be left in peace? I had not thought you would be one to disobey me Luca." He cocked a brow, looking from Luca to the door and back again before adding: "And I am quite certain that door was locked from the inside…"

His son copied the gesture, a small smile coming to his face. "Then perhaps you should not have taught me how to pick it." Proudly holding up his instruments he slowly approached his father again, who still seemed very distant and looked very ill indeed.

"And my intention was not to disturb your peace father, rather to ask you to help restore ours. The whole house has been left in quite a state since your…sudden disappearance."

"I know."

"Yes, I immagine you do. Yet I cannot comprehend why you would be so unwilling as to help us through it."

Again he was tossed against the wall, albeit less harsh this time. "Watch your tongue boy, you have no idea what I have had to endure in my days. Do not presume to tell me what I should or should not do."

Luca began to doubt his decision to come here, yet reminded himself of the justness of his cause and was determined not to falter. If he could not get through his father, who could?

"You are right. I do not know what you have had to endure. But from the little mother has told us I would immagine it was plenty. Yet you managed to overcome all that, long ago. You found peace. You gave us your love and your wisdom and your guidance. And none of us are ready to go without those yet. Céline included…"

He half expected another explosion but instead felt his father's grip on him lessen, almost gently brushing his shoulder before turning away and sitting himself in front of the fire.

"What are you standing about for, sit yourself." Though the words were spoken bitterly, he could tell his father would be allowing him to stay and state his business and he was grateful for it.

Slowly lowering himself into the opposite chair, he carefully handed the letter to Erik, who stared at it for a moment before grabbing it and commencing to read. On ending it, his father had a similar smirk on his face as he had had earlier that evening and Luca could tell his mind was already pondering their options, even if he would never admit this to his son.

So, they are married…Indeed I had not immagined him to take the risk of waiting until their return to Paris. Clever boy…"

"As you can see they have already started running out of money…not to mention their abhorrent abuse of Madame Besson's kind hospitality. Who knows what might come next. He must think her to have plenty of money to her name, however mother already confirmed this is not the case. What will he do with her when he realises the same thing father? When she has outlived her usefulness to him?"

"And what is that to me? As you may recall you darling sister made it perfectly clear she required no more assistance on my part, appalled as she seems to be by my control over her life. Well then, let her prove her point. I hope she will be happy in her new self assigned life."

"You don't mean that."

"Since when have you become such an expert on my thoughts and feelings?"

Luca gave him an annoyed look, tired of his father's childlike stubbornness. "I have spent practically every day of my life in your close proximity father. I believe I am well aware of your thoughts and feelings by now. Enough to know you do not suffer a threat to your family lightly. I'm guessing it's tearing you up inside, but your wounded pride forbids you to act upon instinct."

For a moment Erik stared at him, almost amused at his son's careful evaluation of him. "And what, pray, would be my instinct in this matter according to your apparently detailed studies of my character?"

"To kill the boy and get her back."

The silence that followed confirmed his every word. They sat like that for what seemed an eternity, staring at each other defiantly, both wondering who would give in first. Erik suddenly realised how much his son had grown to be like him. He had already noticed it the other day, when he had found the note at his door telling him of his meeting with the building committee. He had forgotten all about it, and the fact that Luca had stoically faced them by himself, and had managed to get their drawings approved and immediately executed filled him with a pride beyond words. The boy was right of course. His family needed him. Had he not promised Christine? Had he not vowed on their wedding day now so long ago to love, to cherish and to care for?

Had he not promised his dear Céline that very first night to always be there to frighten away her monsters? Well there it was, the biggest monster of them all. And instead of taking action he had allowed the monster to work its evil plan.

"So…what do you have in mind then? To pursue them into Paris?"

Luca let out a breath he hadn't even realised he had been holding. "The thought has crossed my mind. I suppose it will not be as easy as going there and bringing her back. She has convinced herself to be in love with him and will never leave his side voluntarily…unless we can find some incriminating evidence against him. Considering what has happened between him and Aurora, I'm assuming Monsieur DuChamps is not the type of man to be taking his marital vows very seriously."

He sighed again, suddenly very tired of all his scheming and planning, feeling far too small for such a great task. "I cannot do this on my own father. I know nothing of this world besides Venice, the Palazzo, my studies. You know of the ways of men, of women, you know Paris…and the Opera House."

Erik rose from his chair, his troubled mind suddenly seeming to clear under Luca's guidance. "Yes, I suppose you're right…" Suddenly he could not help but run an affectionate hand through the boy's hair. "Thank you Luca, for doing what I could not…"

"What father?"

"Running our family, steering them through this madness…"

Luca simply shrug his shoulders. "Aurora would probably say it would be a wonderful preparation for my destined marital life."

Erik groaned: "No more talk of marriage please, I beg you. One more of my children deciding to wed and I shall truly go mad. I would be equally happy should you remain a bachelor for the rest of your life."

Luca smirked: "So would I."

And so they sat once more, planning their journey till both were satisfied with the result. Father and son Alighieri were traveling to Paris, and no mortal force would be stopping them.


	33. Forget these wil eyed fears

**Hello my dear readers! I sincerely appologise for the long delay, I'm sure all of you are dying to find out what's going to happen in good old Paris. The delays have been for positive reasons this time, however. I'm in the process of obtaining a new (and better!) job, as well as working on my other babee "Rising from the Ashes" with its proud mummy DawnStag. Read it people! This chapter is gonna be a bit dark and angsty, but keep in mind daddy Erik will come to the rescue sooner or later! Enjoy and thanx again for all your amazing reviews! -x- Lotte.**

It was already past midnight as Céline lowered her tired body into a steaming hot bath. Finally, finally they had reached their new home in Paris. The apartment Roger had leased shortly before their departure to Italy, and was now delicately furnished by his dear mother. The journey had been tiresome going from inn to inn, sleeping amongst strangers, constantly looking back to make sure no news of a pursuit out of Venice came. Céline had never been so sad and confused. How did her life ever spiral out of control like this? Only weeks before she had immagined a beautiful sunny wedding at the Santa Maria Formosa, her father's sacred work. She would be clad in clouds of white silk and surrounded by her sisters, her proud and loving parents watching on.

Instead she had had to settle for an ivory ball gown Roger had managed to procure from God knows where and had been ushered into a small Swiss chapel at sunset, their only witnesses being two nervous looking choir boys. He had brought his grandmother's ring, which his mother had given him as soon as he had informed her of his intentions to ask for Céline's hand. That, at least, had been an affectionate note to their nuptials. Upon their arrival back at the obscure little inn, all she could do was cry. She was supposed to have her wedding night here? Lose the sanctity of her virginity, her innocence of childhood in a bed no doubt often used for similar purposes by dozens of strangers before them? The thought alone had made her sick to her stomach and after some coaxing attempts by Roger, and more tears on her part begging his forgiveness for her refusal, he had resigned and had promised her to wait until they were home. Truly home.

Roger had wondered at more than one point whatever he had been thinking to get himself involved in this mess. Was she worth all the trouble? He let his mind wander to the large sums of money soon to be his own and quieted his frustrations. Yes, she would definitely be worth it. He could only pray their arrival here in Paris would stop the endless flood of tears that had seemed to encounter him ever since they had left Venice, and that Madame DuChamps would feel up to finally fulfilling her marital duties. His loins were aching by now and his temper was getting short. He could have forced her of course. But where would that have led him? God knows, she might have turned on her heels and run back to Italy! And so he casually strolled into the bathroom, slowly unbuttoning his shirt while reaching for a towel to offer his wife.

"I believe it is best for you to come out now my darling, I would not want you to vaporise among these mists..."

Céline swallowed hard before shooting her dear husband a shy glance and getting up from amidst the fragrant bubbles. Playing the perfect gentleman, he allowed his curious eyes only a short glance before wrapping her in the warm towel and sweeping her off her feet towards the bed.

Laying her down he leaned over her, brushing her moist curls away from her blushing face. "Now…doesn't that feel much better my love?"

"Yes, it does. It feels so good to be home Roger, really home, our home…"

"A special place for a special night…" Her heart began to race as he lowered his mouth to hers, before continuing down to her neck and the swell of her bosom above the towel.

"You are so beautiful my darling…you have no idea how much I have wanted you."

Indeed, she had no idea at all! His body was throbbing at the anticipation of her virginite body receiving him. Her insecure gasps, her tight canal squeezing around him…indeed a virgin was always a pleasure to have in one's bed. Especially one as pretty as Céline. And now that she was his wife he would not have to worry about her ever refusing him again. Contrary to independent souls like Sophie, who would actually tell him no if she felt tired or wished to court another that night, Céline would know her rightful place: in his bed, ready when he wanted her. It was her duty as well as his right!

Céline was trying to relax, not wanting to allow her nerves to get the bettert of her. Roger loved her and she knew he would never hurt her. She stilled momentarily as he rid her of her towel, sending a lust-filled look up and down before groaning in delight and lowering himself on top of her again.

His hands seemed to be everywhere, and though she could not deny a certain excitement flooding her veins she was unable to shake the feeling that something was missing. All she had had to feed off so far were the romantic novels Aurora and herself loved to indulge in, and in those the lovemaking would last for hours on end, husbands and wives exchanging words of love and admiration. Somehow it felt as if Roger had completely forgotten she was there…

"Roger…dearest…" He looked up at her shortly, afraid she was going to refuse him once more and ready to ignore her pleas. But this time he only found insecurity, another shy smile, and he realised she needed confirmation that all was right somehow.

"Celine, my beautiful Céline. Your body was meant to belong to me my sweet. Let me ignite a fire in you as you have never felt before, let me love you as a husband is destined to love his wife…" His last words had come out a husky whisper and the moment he felt her swooning to his compliments he quickly opened her thighs beneath him and thrusted inside of her.

The world seemed to stop for a second as a razor-sharp pain seemed to split her in half. She bit her lip and tried not to cry out; this was not a time to be weak. He had been angelically patient with her, never claiming his rights until she was ready to give herself to him. He deserved this. And it was supposed to hurt, was it not? It was what all her friends from the ballet had told her. It was the breaking of your barrier, the final proof that husband and wife truly belonged together. Their marriage was consummated and no one would separate them now.

And so she clung to Roger desperately, trying to feel all the bliss and joy she was supposed to be feeling at such a special moment. Yet every one of his movements pained her and secretly she hoped it would not continue for much longer.

When exactly was it decided that the lovemaking was at its end? How did one know? She realised soon enough however, as Roger pushed back into her once more and let out a euphoric moan. Simultaneously she could feel his warm seed enter her body and she understood this had to mean he had had his release, the flow of his bodily fluids that would hopefully bring her with child soon. How she longed to give him a son! Their family would be complete then!

"Dammit Céline, you were so perfect, so ready and willing for me my darling…"

She could only answer him with a brief smile, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry. As her husband drifted off to sleep Céline turned to face Mouf Mouf, gently smiling down on her with his one and only eye, sending her off to the sweet dreams of her carefree childhood. Everything would be alright now, she would never be lonely again…


	34. History repeated

**Hey everyone! We have a little party going on here as Destiny has now officially reached her 100 review barrier, yahooooooo! (tosses in the cake and pops open the champagne) Thank you so much to all of you who are reading and reviewing this, you cannot possibly immagine how special this is for a first time author like myself to see people enjoying the read as much as I love writing this!**

**Secondly: Sorry, sorry, sorry for taking such a long time to update! I'm still very busy with several job interviews (yay!) and the heatwave that has hit Holland these last two weeks hasn't really helped either. It seemed to have melted my brain accordingly, setteling another bout of writer's block on me. So after I wrote chapter 34, completely deleted it again and started over, I hereby present the final result. Not my best ever I know, and quite a shorty, but it will be the the final link between Venice and Paris. After this, the Opera Ghost will return full force! And he brings junior along! Ha!**

**Enjoy! -x- Lotte.**

A bump in the road made Erik jump in his seat, confused for a minute of his surroundings until he recognised the interior of his carriage and the stoic countenance of his son opposite of him. The boy raised a brow and lowered his book cautiously.

"Father? Are you alright?"

Erik nodded vaguely, wiping his forehead in an absent gesture. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. I was just dreaming, it's nothing to worry yourself about."

Luca sent him a scrutinising look before smirking and returning to his reading.

"And what, pray was that smile about?"

Luca shrugged his shoulders. "Mother was right, you are a bad liar. I am your son though and you therefore have no obligations towards me to confide in me the way you do in her."

Erik sighed, his son knew him too well and he had a strong feeling Christine had implored the boy to look after him during their trip. It had proven impossible to leave the house without waking the entire household. He had meant to only wake Christine, to beg her forgiveness for his absence and to tell her of his plans. But as it was, Giulia had curled up beside her mother for the night and she had in turn awoken her siblings, thinking it would be a nice gesture to see their father and brother off on their journey.

Aurora had been quite calm, apparently familiar with Luca's intentions from the start. Matteo had been eager to join them on their mission, but Luca had managed to convince him the house would need a man to look after the women, an explanation he had proudly accepted. Giulia had merely beheld the spectacle with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, quietly asking her father to bring home Céline, without the evil Monsieur DuChamps if possible, and if he would perhaps bring her a souvenir. How he had ever managed to raise such angelic children he did not know, it must have come from marrying an angel…His Angel had only looked at him worriedly but proudly before kissing him warmly and begging him to be careful. Christine knew all too well how much he loathed to return to Paris, to the Populaire of all places…

"These dreams…they are the images I had sworn to walk away from, as your mother had taught me to. I suppose such things can only be repressed, but never fully erased. My argument with Céline…"

Luca nodded. All doors to his father's past had been thrown wide open.

Now it was Erik's turn to smirk. "Explain to me again why I am doing this? Am I really such a masochist that I must continue to travel back and forth to that hated place to rescue generations of silly de Chagny women?"

"You may also anticipate the look on Roger DuChamps face when he encounters you, I suspect it will be a more amusing picture."

Erik fell silent for a while, studying the fleeing landscapes in the early sunrise. "I am not sure it will be Luca. If things go bad…There is no easy way to say this, there may be a chance I have to kill him. If he refuses to let go of Céline, to send her to ruin…God knows I had sworn never to kill again."

Luca pondered his words for a while before carefully forming his reply. "I believe when you made that vow you would have been referring to the lives of innocents father. Monsieur DuChamps however, is far from innocent. Indeed he does not strike me as a man who would frighten away from murder himself. We can only hope to resolve this matter peacefully, but if not…I for one shall never think ill of you should such an unfortunate thing take place."

"No, I had not immagined you would. But what of God Luca? What would I say to him when my day of final judgement should arrive?"

"That you spent your life doing his noble work by guarding his beloved children from evil, and seeing them safe on returning to their rightful path in life, granting them forgiveness for the errors in their ways."

No more was said after that, not in words at least. As Luca picked up his book once more he noticed his father drifting back to sleep, not to wake again until the changing of horses five hours later. They still had a long way to travel before reaching the first place on their list: The Valmont residence.


	35. Missing you

**Hello my dear readers! The contiuning heat unfortunately prevents me from writing anything massive right now, so I decided to offer you a little peace offering in the form of a little fluff between husband and wife...No of course I'm not referring to the DuChamps! Enjoy, and please bear with me until these temperatures have dropped somewhat! -x- Lotte.**

_ Paris, le 11ieme mai 1895 _

_Ma chère Christine, _

_I suppose you will be surprised to hear from me so soon, yet I promised to write you as often and as speedily as possible and you know how I loathe breaking my promises to you. Indeed I cannot remember the last time I did, save perhaps my vow to see our family safe from harm at all times, a fault I currently seek to remedy. _

_Our son and I have taken up residence in a small but comfortable inn not far from the Opera House for the time being. You would not believe how much the city has changed. Contrary to our beloved Venezia, where time still tends to stand still and the city lovingly clings to it's glorious past, Paris hurries forward in an outrageous pace. Obsessed with following the latest developments in technological progress, and anxious not to miss out on any fashionable change worth adjusting to. Luca seems intrigued by it all, as a boy his age should be I suppose. _

_For my own part I must simply confess myself feeling old and out of place here. Your jesting remarks to me being an old fashioned man seemed to have found a base of truth here, even though I know you shall never reproach me for being so. Indeed, I tend to humor myself into thinking you actually find it a charming part of me. _

_We have visited with Meg this morning, and managed to obtain a living address for the DuChamps. At least the boy has had the civility to set up home in a descent part of town. They visit with the Valmonts regularly and Meg seems to be under the impression that they are happy and content together. It will not surprise you that I doubt her impartiality in this case however. Her kind heart will forbid her to think ill of anyone in this world, and admirable as such a trait in character may be I long to speak with André or better yet, Marie. I was sad to hear she has been feeling somewhat weak of late, and hope she will be recovered soon. I know she will know how to aid us in our quest for justice and peace of mind. _

_Meg of course sends her best wishes to your health and happiness and has with some difficulty agreed to keeping our presence here concealed from Céline. I believe our plan of incriminating Roger DuChamps will only work should he move leisurely, and unaware of our presence. How liberal people tend to speak and act when thinking themselves alone Christine! To silently observe them, I need not confess to you it is a trait I still enjoy immensely. Yet I am well aware my skills in this area have never been of more importance than just now, and I will promise to take heed. Roger has indeed continued his employment at the Opera while our daughter has retreated from the ballet completely, even declining an offer to train the younger students which would have been a most respectable occupation for her. I believe Roger to have had a hand in this, pampering her into an easy lifestyle with the money he believes to own, his purpose of course to keep her far away from the Opera House and his dealings there. _

_But I fear I must conclude here, there are several matters that require my attention. Luca asks me to send you his warmest greetings as well as sending news of our well being to his siblings whom I suspects he misses quite dearly. _

_My darling Angel, not a minute goes by that I do not think of you and I know for fact I shall not rest easy until I am back in your warm embrace again. I have spent a lifetime of loneliness before being granted the sanctity of your love, and yet none of my early days have felt as empty and meaningless as these, knowing to be loved and willfully denying myself the soothing comfort of it. _

_I will try to write again soon, though should we decide to fade into the shadows of the Opera completely my attempts shall prove difficult. Please know that I love you with all my heart and I will take my dying breath before seeing any of our family hurt any further. _

_Your loving and devoted husband. _

_Erik. _

Christine read the letter again and again, impatiently wiping the tears from her cheeks in doing so. Much as she appreciated the news on her daughter's apparent well being, and the cautious progress Erik and Luca seemed to be making, it were his words of love and adoration that struck her most of all. His inner storm raging, the battles his heart, mind and conscience were fighting every minute of the day. Wanting to be strong for his family and defend their honour, yet secretly wishing to be left in peace. To hide in her arms in their home, to play with his children and to put the sweet music of his mind to paper for generations to enjoy. Yet Destiny always seemed to have other plans in store for him. And so she closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer for her Angel to stay safe, protected by the graces from above at a time when she herself was incapable of doing so.

"Please God keep him from harm's way, keep him warm in Your embrace, deliver my loved one from evil and let him return to me soon so that he may know peace in his heart once more…"

And as the soft sea breeze carried her words of love across the sunny Venetian rooftops towards the heavens, Erik felt himself succumb to the deepest of calm. No fear or anxiety could harm him as his Angel watched over him with words of love and protection…


	36. Allies

**(slowly rises from behind a rock) No sharp objects flying around? (ducks for one nasty punjab lasso) That it? Ok, hello and welcome back then! Sorry, sorry, sorry for keeping you guys in the dark this long! The before mentioned hot weather had effectively scared off my muses and left me in a complete state of writer's block! You know, that ugly thing where you stare at your computer and all you seem to be writing looks like total (fill in dirty word of preference here)? Yeh. Been there. I think I'm crawling back out, I have about 4 more chapters to go before this story faces its end so bare with me! **

**With a big thanx to Beth and Ani for being my betas and creative advisors on these last steps, for those of you not reading "Rising from the Ashes" yet: Run you fools! It's finished and amazing, and I don't just say that cause I helped write it! ;) Enjoy! -x- Lotte.**

She had not even finished dressing when she sensed him, the doorbell and her maid announcing his arrival only minutes later. His radiant, powerful presence seemed to crawl through the mansion and she actually felt herself nervous for seeing him again after so many years. After that fateful night in Paris now so long ago their old bond had lingered mainly through correspondence, some of their letters years apart. He was alive and well, he had a family and a flourishing career. He no longer feared the world, as it no longer seemed to fear him.

And now this. An evil man coming to take away what he deemed his own. If she had had the chance she would have warned Roger DuChamps of the dangers of such rash actions. No one counterset Erik, invaded his carefully constructed and tightly guarded world without suffering the consequences. She could only be thankful he seemed rational enough to actually form a plan of sorts first. Perhaps people really did grow wiser with age after all.

The sight of the pair of them was one for sore eyes. The impeccably dressed, respectfully aged older man, his posture still as strong and unabiding as always, now joined by his younger mirroring image. One look at the boy and she immediately understood Erik's continuous praise of his son, the boy was clearly raised to be all he had wished to have been at such an age.

"Luca, say hello to your grand-mère."

The boy needed little encouragement. With a cautious yet warm smile he approached her, taking her delicate hands in his own before gently kissing both her cheeks.

"It is good to finally meet you nonna…grand-mère. Father has told me many good things of you."

She smiled at him warmly, ignoring his obvious embarrassment at confusing his French and Italian. "And I about you my dear boy. Though I fear your dear father must have greatly exaggerated on my part."

She had by now reached the sofa and allowed Erik to courteously kiss her hand as he was used to doing, holding it slightly longer as if reacquainting himself with the sight and feel of her.

"It is good to see you again Marie. Time it seems, has been good to us both."

"If that includes time deciding I am no longer able to teach dance, I suppose I have been fortunate in other aspects yes…"

He offered her a sympathetic smile, immagining her frustration at her arthritis preventing her from moving as fluently as she used to.

"But I suppose petty conversation over one's health is not the reason you're here. Please, sit. Tell me of your plans as I ring for tea. You do still drink tea, do you not?"

Luca sat by amused as his father and adopted grandmother engaged in conversation. They shared a pleasant sharpness in their words which made their talk an interesting one to follow. The plan they were discussing had basically been his own, and he could not help but pride himself in it. The only detail neither could be certain of however, was the exact layout of the Opera House. It had been 25 years since his father had seen it last, and with all its reconstructions he might not be able to blend in as quietly as he once supposedly had. After tea was finished, Marie gently picked up a withered portfolio she had brought down from her chambers, and gently ran a hand along its leather binding.

"I suppose you recognise this?"

Erik could only nod, before handing the book to his son without opening it. Luca took it with great curiosity, and found upon opening it that it contained a collection of sketches, journals, detailed descriptions, all regarding the infamous Opera Populaire…and all in his father's strong and elegant handwriting. The script seemed that of a younger man, impatient, angry even. But it breathed his father's genius from every page. His grandmother gently pried a sketch from among the many, and he noticed it to be an overview drawing from the building as a whole.

"When the chandelier fell, and fire overtook the Populaire, these…and these…and these parts were basically destroyed completely. The glass was too fragile to withstand the heat of the flames, and on breaking only allowed in more oxygen. I need not tell you two of course, that warm air as well as fire will always seek higher ground, dry places. Your home, well I guess one could say it was far from high and dry correct?"

Erik took in a deep breath. The sudden realisation that his home, his artistic domain of so many years might still exist made him feel frightened and exited at the same time. Another piece of his legacy, his history would be revealed to a new generation.

"I cannot tell with certainty however how the cellars are connected to the upper grounds by now. Parts of them are undoubtedly used for storage again, but your passageways…after it was ascertained that the Opera Ghost was in truth a man and not a Phantom, people obviously felt less hesitant to explore the dark hallways and tunnels. Traps were removed, doors sealed shut, mirrors protected with cement layers…"

She noticed Erik wince and concluded the infamous mirror story must be a part of their story he had preferred not to acquaint his son with.

"I must be honest with you, without the proper knowledge of the new form of this building, you run a great risk of getting stuck in places you would not wish to be."

As she saw their faces drop however, she gave them a mischievous smile. "You are lucky then, I have the perfect guide to help you on your way." And with that she signaled to the maid coming in to clear the tea. "Susanne, will you please ask mademoiselle Thérèse to join us when she is finished with her practice?" The maid curtsied before quietly quitting the room. As both men looked at her curiously she continued. "I suppose Meg forgot to mention we have a new ballerina in our family?"

She had hardly finished her words when they heard the familiar tapping of pointe shoes down the hall and a frail blond girl came bouncing in. Both men blinked their eyes in surprise, Erik because of the spitting image the young ballerina held to her mother, and Luca because she was simply the most adorable girl he had ever seen. The girl had apparently only just finished her ballet training, for her blond curls stuck to her neckline and her cheeks were coloured a happy rose. She looked from one man to the other, suddenly feeling awkward for her unkept appearance and the shamelessly low-cut neckline of her snow white ballet costume.

"Grand-mère? Susanne said you wished to see me…I did not know you had company."

"It's quite alright my dear. The gentlemen are used to ballerinas about the house. Messieurs, may I introduce you to my dear granddaughter Thérèse Valmont? Tessa, les Messieurs Alighieri from Venice, Italy. Monsieur Erik is your aunt Christine's husband and Monsieur Luca is his oldest son. They need our help solving a little mystery around the Opera House."

Upon that Tessa nearly leapt forward, curtsying elegantly before looking from one to the other in excitement. "It is wonderful to meet you both at last! Maman reads me all your letters from Italy, it seems like such an enchanted place. And now you are here, and we have a mystery to solve?"

Marie gently tapped her granddaughter on the shoulder, motioning her to sit down.

"Oh yes my darling, quite the mystery. It involves the underground vaults you seem to know so well, and…countersetting a certain Monsieur DuChamps…"

Upon that the girl's eyes seemed to darken somewhat. "Well if it is Roger DuChamps you are here for, you need not explain any further. You will have my full assistance in hurting him in any way possible Messieurs. And I do love my underground hallways so well…"

Marie smiled at her while gently tucking a stubborn curl away behind her ear. "Well my dear, here is your chance to meet the man who created your hallways for you."

For a moment the girl looked stunned, until realisation dawned on her. She searched Luca's face shortly, yet found it unmoving and unaffected. Then she slowly turned to the older man sitting next to her grandmother.

"No…it is impossible I'm sure. For you to have created those halls and cellars…you would have to know…you would have to BE the Opera Ghost himself!"

An amused smile passed over Erik's lips, for once the memory of his former self did not hurt him as he thought it would.

"Enchanté, my little Giry…" And with that, a very important allegiance was formed.


	37. A Vicomte's legacy

**Hey everyone! Boy, that's quick right? Well, I did tell you my muses have returned from their tropical island, and all your lovely welcome back-reviews have surely helped as well, so there you go. This one's nice and long and, oh yeh, VERY evil. Don't worry, we will deal with that later on. I've also been getting some hints from the We love Luca-fanclub as to his relations with a certain young ballerina...Only time will tell ladies! Boys will be boys after all, and this particular prototype doesn't seem too interested in wooing the ladies..yet! Ha! Enjoy and stay tuned for more to come... -x- Lotte.**

A bleak stroke of sunlight penetrated the misty skies as a carriage made its way down the dreamy lanes towards the grand estate of Chagny. The two young people inside had hardly exchanged a word during the half hour ride their journey had taken them. Roger had been too busy preparing his meeting with the Vicomte, while Céline had stared out the window in nervous anticipation of seeing her childhood home again. Would she remember it? Would it have altered much? How would her family react to their visit? As the carriage came to a hold and the groundsmen hurried to meet them, Céline could only admire the blooming parks around her while Roger came straight to business.

"Monsieur and Madame Roger DuChamps to see Monsieur Vicomte."

Francois and Stéphane de Chagny de Bonneville were only just finishing their lunch as they were notified of the arrival of their visitors. Francois, drunk at midday as usual, yawned in agony before eying his son. "Not some of your tedious townsfolk friends I hope? I have no appetite to entertain them again boy."

Stéphane shook his head in surprise. "The name is not familiar to me father. Indeed I do not know to what we would have the pleasure of…"

The servant cleared his throat before quietly continuing. "Monsieur mentioned should you enquire after a reference, his wife was formerly known as Céline Juliette Marguerite de Chagny, daughter to Raoul Guillaume, Vicomte de Chagny."

At that, Francois snorted. "Well well, my niece comes to visit. If she is as pretty as her mother this could be very interesting indeed."

The large doors to the salon swung open as even Francois made a civil attempt to rise from his seat. As she closed her eyes Céline had a vague remembrance of her mother playing the piano in here while she sat playing with her dolls. So long ago it seemed. Now the house was no longer hers and its new inhabitants stood eying her curiously as she curtsied before them.

"Monsieur, Madame, a pleasure to make your acquaintance I'm sure. My darling niece…I was right, you see Stéphane? A spitting image of her mother. Too bad you're already wed dear, my son could do with a pretty wife like you."

A shiver of fear and disgust went down her spine as she sat, before feeling Roger squeezing her hand in reassurance and catching an apologetic look from her younger cousin.

After tea and all polite comments of health and decorum had been exchanged, Stéphane decided to come to the point before his father had a chance to bully their young relation any further. Setting down his teacup he cautiously enquired as to the purpose of their visit, to which Roger sprang to life with his well studied monologue.

"The circumstances of my late father-in-law's all too early demise have been very sad indeed, as you will be well aware of. My poor mother-in-law could hardly stand to live and breathe, let alone remain in a place that held so many haunted memories to her. In her haste to depart the country to seek a new and brighter future however, it is my understanding that the issue of her husband's inheritance has never fully been dealt with correctly, a matter we have come to remedy now that my wife is a respectably married woman come of age. We were hoping to be granted access to her father's final will and testament to learn of her rights with regards to his possessions and noble lineage."

An uneasy silence fell over the room as Stéphane glanced over at his father, unsure of how to proceed. As delicate and flattering as their purpose had been formed, it was quite clear they meant to find only one thing: money. And whether or no they would be entitled to it, it was the one thing he knew Francois was very loathe to part from. As suspected, it did not take long for his father to wake up from his stoic slumbers and stare from one to the other, before bursting out in a hysterical fit of laughter.

"Possessions? Lineage? Whatever are you talking of man? If your woman had been of such importance to this house, would you think I would have allowed that harlot of a mother of hers to simply run off with the first suitor who came for her? Ha! I must say you have quite the sense of humor my boy, for that alone I should compensate you."

Roger straightened his back, not sure he liked the direction the conversation was steering in. "Monsieur Vicomte, I must beg you to refrain from such harsh and insulting words on the name of my wife and her relatives. Being among men of good breeding I am sure we may find a solution to this situation without any further embarrassment to any party."

Francois' red face had by now taken on a darker gloom, and his son knew better than to counterset him in a mood like this. And so he sat silent once more, stealing nervous glances at the young girl before him who had by now turned awfully pale.

"Very well Monsieur DuChamps, let me then put this in words you commoners can relate to better: Her father left her nothing. No money, no titles, no houses, not even a daisy in the lawn around this very house! My dear cousin, in his youthful innocence, had no doubt intended to have many more a child than the mere one daughter his wife had managed to pop out in their early years of marriage. Boys, sons, heirs to his lineage. A daughter was all well and good to keep his wife and mother company, yet what would he do with her besides marrying her off at a good price? Name her the Vicomtesse the Chagny? No Monsieur, marrying a common Opera singer was one blow to the crest, but another novelty in the family would no longer be accepted. And so he pranced about town on his fancy horse, boasting of his girl's angelic smiles while shagging her mother day and night for a proper heir. I cannot say which gave out sooner, his weak seed or his rotten lungs, but before the Vicomtesse could get fat again her husband died of that typhoid fever in the winter of '75 and our branch of the family finally received the honours that were their due."

Céline took in blow after blow, forcing herself to stay calm. Her mother had been right then, in her assumptions her father did not care. In loving memory of his deceased spirit Christine Alighieri had never bothered to acquaint her child with all the painful details, thinking they would not matter now that they had started a new and happy life.

Yet now she knew the truth, spat out to her by this hateful man calling himself family, and worse he seemed to enjoy their astonishment over it. Suddenly this little voice inside of her started scolding her for coming here, for leaving Venice at all. Why had she run from her family so rashly? _Because you were so very convinced you knew how to manage your own life, you weakling!_ her spirit shouted at her. And now there was nowhere to run from the truth: Raoul de Chagny had found her a pretty filler for his household, yet had not bothered to even settle the smallest sum of money on her to ensure her health and security in life.

Roger sat equally shocked, were it for different reasons. No money. None. Not even a few thousand Francs. How was this possible? Did not the French law instruct children should be equally bestowed upon by their parents? _Yes, you fool, it does now. But where was that rule twenty years back? And how would that rule have applied if the idiot calling himself Céline's father never even bothered to draw up a will in the first place?_

Francois seemed satisfied with the effect of his words and took his leave with a pitiful bow, murmuring about the nerve of scavengers these days before retreating to his private chambers. Stéphane still sat beholding his guests, before offering a quiet apology.

"My father has not long ago lost his own partner in life. My mother has been sick for a long time before finally being called upon by our dear Lord. His grief over her loss causes him to overindulge in alcohol I'm afraid, I must therefore beg you to forgive his rudeness. The…other matter I cannot assist you with any further, I'm afraid. Unless perhaps…"

He quickly rose, his guests following his example in anticipation.

"I believe some possessions of your mother and father are still in storage in the East Wing of the Estate. I would be happy to accompany you there. Perhaps you will find something of value amongst them, something you hold dear. The memories of your youth one could say. I would be happy to let you take anything you wish, cousin."

Roger was eager to protest at the young man's dismissal of him, yet upon seeing Céline's radiant smile he knew he could not in good conscience drag her away from this place before allowing her to ransack through the no doubt scarce belongings the Vicomte was willing to offer her. _If you deny her now God knows she will start denying you on much more delicate grounds old boy! Keep her happy for now!_ And so her offered her his warmest smile, squeezed her hand once more and followed her to her hidden treasures.

"Trinkets, a box of bloody trinkets. Is that all we are to receive after being scolded like common beggars from the street? It's an abomination, I tell you. After I'm done with them no member of the Opera cast shall want them as patron no more. And those are the people who dare call themselves your family! May God strike them for their insolence!"

Céline sat by, too tired to counterset Roger in his angry ramblings. This whole trip had been one big mistake. It was quite clear her parent's marriage, which she had so often romaticised in her head, was hardly as accepted as she had believed it to be. Her "branch" of the family, as Francois had so bluntly put it, had no doubt been the laughing stock of Paris. Would her mother have felt equally embarrassed and put down as she did now?

Would her family and so-called friends have degraded her and looked down upon her? Would they have blamed her for not baring a son? Would her father have?

"I beg your pardon, what did you just say?" Something he had just said had filtered through into her brain and it surely wasn't something she would accept from him.

"I said it is clear your mother had no feel for financial matters at all, or she would have demanded early on you would be given your proper share. But seeing her gentle character she probably swooned to your father's every word and never bothered to break her pretty head over what might happen should he decease before herself."

A sudden anger overtook Céline, no longer would she stand by idly while her dear family was dragged through the mud. Least of all her dear mother.

"What gives you the right to speak of maman like that! She gave up everything she knew to be with my father, and after he died she gave up everything again to see us through hard times! She had to start from scratch in a foreign country as no one in Paris was willing to look out for the 'Opera singer turned Vicomtesse'. If not for my f…" she suddenly cut herself off, realising what she was going to say. If not her father had been there to take care of them, to take them in…and how had she repaid his unwavering care and devotion?

"Your father, is that what you were going to say? That deluded masked man who has done nothing but drive us apart from the moment we arrived to his house? Don't tell me you're suddenly having a change of heart Céline dearest, that our sacrifices have been in vain. For I would be more than happy to relieve you of this burden and send you back to them, if they will still have you after your last glorious fit that is!"

A sudden terror gripped Céline's heart, as she realised the gravity of his words. Would he truly leave her? Divorce her? Send her back to Venice? No, it would be impossible. She knew she would no longer be welcome there. She would truly have no one left!

"Roger no…you cannot be serious. I love you, and I believed you loved me, I mean…Oh dear God, why is this happening? Why are we having this conversation? Oh dearest why did we ever go to that dreaded place?"

He sighed in relief as she sank into his arms sobbing. There. Her rebellion had been dealt with. He had seen the fear in his eyes as he threatened to leave her, and knew she would do anything to stay in his favour. After all, who else was there?

As he possessed her body that night, Céline gasping at him in admiration, he had already started working on his new plan. He would contact Signore Alighieri's attorney at law by post, requesting the old man to relinquish his daughter's share of his inheritance, as was common upon marriage. He knew beyond a doubt her mother would not see her without means, and all would be alright again as soon as the money was within his reach.

He also made a solemn vow to seek out Sophie before the week was out. Much as he enjoyed his power over the pretty brunette, he felt himself longing for a screaming banshee straddling him, rather than the quiet obedient girl shattering beneath him now…

**Hey! What are you people glaring at? I warned you it was strait and plain EVIL right? -x- LM**


	38. In dreams he came

**Oh yeh, here we go everyone! The Phantom returns to his Opera House! Thanks everyone for your encouragement and sweet reviews, they really keep me going! Almost sad to realise we'll only have a few more chapters to go... (pouts) Enjoy it while it lasts and keep that feedback coming! -x- Lotte.**

"You're late."

Thérèse Béthany Valmont seemed as put out by tardiness as her grandmother had always been, and Erik half expected her to wave her cane at them. She looked around nervously, making sure they had not been followed before ushering them inside and quickly closing the rusty old gate behind them.

They had agreed to meet at the anonymous, withered old entrance of the Rue Scribe. A door long forgotten in an alley no one desired to visit except perhaps those with a death wish or a need for female companionship. Erik had mentioned he had lost its key long ago, to which Thérèse had merely replied she would be there waiting for them. And so she had been. She had used a simple hairpin to pick the lock, and she quickly tucked it back into her chignon while walking back into the building in front of them. The scrape of a match against paper could be heard before the gentle light of a lantern appeared in her hand.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to be rude. It's just that I'll be in terrible trouble should I be late for my rehearsals you know."

"We understand. Thank you for your time beforehand Madem…Teresa."

Luca quickly corrected himself under her scrutinising stare. She had made it quite clear she thought it utterly silly for two people of the same age to address each other so formally, and had insisted on a first name basis. Monsieur Alighieri seemed to have bestowed her mother's old nickname on her and because of his somewhat intimidating composure she decided to let it pass. She noticed again how Luca had Italianated her name and was secretly charmed by it. Although fluent in his grammar and vocabulary, his accent was dreadfully foreign. But who would address such a matter when it made him sound so…sensual?

"I assure you it's no problem at all. Right then, off we go."

As she spun away from them again they noticed how she had pulled a pair of thick woolen socks over her ballet slippers so as not to have them ruined by the damp and muddy hallways they were now to pass. As they walked on mainly in silence, Luca admiringly took in the grandeur of the structure he had only recently learned to be his father's. Erik felt almost eerie at returning to this place. The structure had been damaged, true. It was clear some alterations had been made to accommodate for new, and better ventilated storage rooms. But it took little immagination to remember the way it had been before, and he hardly even noticed his steps becoming quicker and more certain the lower they descended down the cellars.

Luca and Thérèse were following him by now, shooting nervous glances across. Thérèse was more than a little impressed at actually descending these halls at the guidance of the Opera Ghost himself, whereas Luca was only just beginning to learn about his father's past.

They must be eight to ten metres below street level by now and though impressed, the boy could not help but wonder how his father, who seemed so used to comfort and luxury, could have abided to live down such a place so long. If his purpose had been to lock out the world entirely, he had for sure been successful.

Suddenly Erik bent down before them, touching the ground carefully before muttering to himself. "Removed. Very well, we will remedy that." He turned around at the children, and seemed transformed already. He obviously felt none of their reserve or insecurity and appeared to have gone back 25 years in time altogether. "Come, the traps have been removed here, it is safe to cross now." He stepped over a missing stone easily, where it took Luca a near jump to accomplish the same, holding out his hand again to Thérèse.

"Can you jump?"

As he caught her incredulous look he already scolded himself, she was after all a ballerina. She gracefully leaped across before slightly loosing her balance and landing somewhat unceremoniously into Luca's strong arms. He nearly jumped at the contact, quickly setting her back on her feet before shooting her an uncomfortable glance and continuing his way beside her.

Their journey was a long one, and a quick enquiry with Thérèse taught Luca they had to travel all the way round to the south wing of the building in order to reach the lair without having to cross the lake. "The managers unfortunately do not have an equally good purpose for a boat down there as your father once had."

Upon seeing him glance behind she gave him a cautious smile: "You…did have a boat once, did you not? I have stood at that lakeshore so many times, knowing it must surely be a much quicker road if only one had a boat to row across. Personally I can't really understand how the lake should still be there in the first place, I mean…with such highly developed techniques of water drainage one would immagine they could have pumped that water out by now…"

When Luca merely gave her an annoyed smirk and turned to continue, she realised she must have said something truly ignorant, however his father seemed more patient than his stern appearance betrayed.

"Every truly magnificent Opera in the world has its lake, little Giry. Not only does it work wonders for the structure of the building, but it enhances the purity of sounds above as well. I would have to kill the engineer who would one day decide to drain it, as you proposed." Upon seeing her smiling face suddenly frown in nervous tension he realised she did not comprehend his dry humor like his son did, and quickly changed the subject.

"Are you not cold, ma petite? I suppose the damp soil chills you feet, n'est-ce pas?"

To his surprise she let out a soft chuckle. "This sand actually feels nice under my feet. Like…walking on a beach I suppose. Wouldn't you say Luca?"

"I wouldn't know, the beaches in Venezia have only rocks, no sand." She frowned at his somewhat grumpy remark and wondered what could have altered his mood so. Surely he was not so shallow as to blame her for her ignorance on the subject of architecture? She had no time to ponder the subject any further however, as she heard Erik take in a deep breath and realised they had reached the South entrance to the once infamous Phantom's Lair.

"Dear God…" A certain sense of calm spread through him as he aimlessly wandered around the place. His house by the lake, once bathing in light and luxury, now seemed as dark and gloomy as his soul had once been. Or perhaps it had always been this way he wondered. Perhaps this was how Christine had perceived it all along, triggering her fear of the dark. And of him. Shaking the thought from his head he quietly continued, hardly noticing the two adolescents trotting in behind him.

The place had obviously been stripped bare, everything of value had been taken out and had hopefully found its way into other people's homes to be enjoyed. What remained where some old drapes, pieces of shattered mirror glass, withered sheets of paper and a few blankets that had most likely been left there in later years. All in all the space was still suitable for residence, if only for a short period this time.

He turned around at Thérèse, who seemed to be attempting to catch his son's attention, who in turn seemed to try his utmost to avoid eye contact with the pretty ballerina.

"I think this will do. We will be needing some supplies of course, food, candles…"

Shaken from her reverie she nodded at him. "Of course, I could bring you a basket after my classes have ended, that would be about two hours from now."

"The other exits? I'm assuming the northern side, when crossed by a boat of sorts, is still open?"

Again a nod. "It is Monsieur. And there is a third road in the back leading out to the stables and eventually the Rue Malmaison, I suppose you have used this road for your…escape after the fire? Oh, and further up north there is a path leading away from the main staircase, branching off so to speak. It seems to be running towards the dormitories and costume department, however it seems to have no exit there. Just a solid cement wall, is all."

Erik winced inwardly, Marie was right then about the mirror. This road would have been very useful indeed to spy on the ballet rats and Roger's intentions towards them. Perhaps the error could be corrected, as he would his traps. This building was still the very child of his immagination after all, and the fact that some ignorant youths had decided to pry and prod around it did not mean he would forego a final say in the matter of its design. And with an architect as brilliant as Luca by his side the task would prove even easier.

"Very well, merci Thérèse. I trust you will know your way back up? I would hate for you to get lost or miss your training at our expense…"

"I will go through the stables Monsieur, that is how I usually travel in any case. The road is broad and well paved that way. The stable boys know my love of horses and think nothing of finding me there on occasion."

She looked from one to the other once more, content in receiving at least a nod from Luca's direction before turning, lighting a second candle from the lantern and carefully making her way upstairs.

As his father began pacing about, improvising some sort of a comfortable residence for the time being, Luca felt himself turn slightly numb. Of course his father had heard him shiver.

"Luca, are you alright?" He nodded slowly, looking around once more.

"This silence father, the darkness, it's almost…"

"Maddening?" He was shocked to find his father finishing the sentence he had been reluctant to utter.

"My boy, I do not know how much your dear mother has told you of my life here, but I can assure you I was far from sane in those years. Until one voice in the darkness lured me back into the light. An angelically light and tender voice, holding the promise of a great career, one I would be able to give birth to. A little girl by the name of Christine Daaé entered this building and carried her radiant warmth down into this very cellar."

He paused momentarily, a small smile passing his lips as if the memory of his beloved warmed him on the spot. It must be a rare and special thing indeed, Luca figured, to find the love of one's life and never forsake it again.

"That is what kept me at ease here Luca. The melodies she planted in my head, that saved me from the silence and pierced the very darkness we will soon be plunged back into should we not find some means to light and warm this room. Now let's start our preparations, we will make sure Mademoiselle Thérèse will find a warm welcome upon her return."

With a start Luca realised the hole his father was pointing at was in fact a fireplace, beautifully carved in rock, and so they gathered the few inflammable bits they could find to enjoy a comforting fire.


	39. The trap is set

**Another chapter? Yes, really! It is! Well, you guys did ask me to update soon and as your devoted authoress I cannot but comply of course. If my readers command...So pick up a candle and follow me back into the Opéra Populaire, where both the Ghost and a little churiby guy named Cupid seem to be playing their tricks! Enjoy and please leave me a review! -x- Lotte.**

Roger paced the stage in restless frustration, their rehearsals once more interrupted by a tantrum of their leading soprano Mireille Vantou. The corps de ballet she had claimed, had been fluttering about her too closely making it impossible for her to concentrate on the task at hand: her singing. It was no great secret however that the main reason Mademoiselle Vantou wished to keep the ballet at a distance, was that their close proximity made her look even more corpulent as she already was. Why did great voices always have to be accompanied by huge bodies, Roger wondered. If that was what it took for one to obtain a soloist position he would happily forego the honours.

"You seem tense, Monsieur DuChamps…" a teasing whisper reached his ears as he noticed Sophie tiptoeing up behind him.

"That is most likely because I am tense, Mademoiselle Lenoire..."

She sent him a pitiful look, before leaning in closer. "I hope it is not your recent nuptuals that create such stress. Perhaps your dear wife does not meet al your great expectations after all?"

He grinned, much as she tried to tease him he was very well aware of the jealousy laced in her voice. "Let us say she tries her very best, ma chère. And there is only so much a man can ask of his beloved wife."

She gave him a serious nod. "Oh indeed, for a lady of good breeding need never to…" The rest of her words were whispered so quietly that even Erik's superior hearing could no longer catch it, but from the radiant smile on the boy's face he could well imagine what the young trollop had just proposed. Very well. He could watch the ballerina through Thérèse while keeping an eye on DuChamps himself. He sucked in his breath as he heard the frustrated whispers of the leading tenor drifting up towards the rafters.

"On days like these one would almost wish for the Opera Ghost to return. One fallen backdrop and I'm sure our beloved Mireille would allow the corps to wubble about wherever they wish…" He icily stated to two of his colleagues.

Erik smirked, this was almost too easy. Nothing better to wake up a dormant haunting than a silent wish for its powers. And so he casually strolled over to the next rafter, checked the stage once more to ensure everyone's fleeing positions and loosened one of the ropes before him.

The screams throughout the auditorium were thus that even Luca was drawn in coming from the dormitories. Making his way up without a sound he was met by his father's triumphant smile.

"Father, what…"

"It seems my boy, that the Opera Ghost has just returned from the grave."

With afternoon rehearsals postponed immediately, there was little use for any to hang around longer. As they went down deeper and deeper, they slowly drowned out the sounds of havoc above. It did not take long for the cursed tenor's words to reach every single pair of ears in the house and just as Erik had hoped the conclusion was quickly drawn: his silent wishes had awoken the spirit of a long deceased man, which meant the Opéra Populaire now truly had a Ghost to deal with! Even the most logical of brains seemed unable to otherwise explain the well timed drop of the set piece, for even if someone had meant to play a joke they would have had to climb up to the rafters first, thus needing more time. And no earthly being could have caught the tenor's words whilst already being up in the rafters, surely the distance would have been too great…

Inside the ballet dormitories Thérèse had to try hard not to fall out of place and play scared with her fellow dancers. She knew for fact Monsieur Erik had been up those rafters that afternoon, and had noticed how that particular backdrop was never meant to hurt anyone. Yet all the young ballerinas were in a complete state of hysteria, claiming never to enter the hallways by themselves again. This did provide a problem however, for when she herself eventually ventured out, needing to bring a fresh supply of foods down to the lair, her two best friends refused to leave her side.

Luca followed her movements intently, as he noticed her desperately wandering about, trying to think of ways to leave her friends and make her way down. Even a quick brain such as hers seemed too fail against the annoying persistence of the two younger girls, unless… Taking a deep breath he ran a hand through his messy golden strands, straightening them back. Smoothing down his shirt once more he suddenly stepped out of the shadows, pulling Thérèse close to him while brushing a soft kiss across her knuckles as he had often seen his friends do at parties and assemblies.

"There you are my darling Tessa. I was afraid I might not find you amidst the chaos. Who ever would have thought such a trivial thing as a fallen backdrop could cause so many people to loose their wits altogether?"

Thérèse could only stare at him, her shock eminent on her face and her throat squeezing shut at the clear contact between their bodies under nothing but her leotard and his dress shirt. His eyes were still as calm and unaffected as ever though, imploring her to play along and so she quickly swallowed.

"Yes, yes, so it would seem. I'm so sorry to have you worried dearest. I hope you have not been waiting long?"

He actually managed to shoot her a flirty smile this time, and all her previous attempts at breathing ceased once more. "My wait is never too long when I know you will be at the end of it, my sweet. Now was there a certain affair you needed to handle with your…charming friends here or could I steal you away for a while?" At that he shot a somewhat annoyed glance at the two other girls, who instantly started giggling to hide their blush.

"Tessa, why did you not simply tell us you wished to go meet your…gentleman friend? We would have let you go you know, and tell nothing of it. So long as we are sure you would be safe from the Ghost…"

Thérèse looked up and down between her friends and Luca, before giving them a cautious smile. "Yes, I suppose you would have. A girl can never be too careful with her reputation however, it is the one thing my grand-mère always taught me…" With that she shot an angry glare at Luca, making him feel how badly this would go with Marie.

"Well then, I suppose we should be off. Ladies, if you would excuse us…" And with that Luca simply curtsied and whisked the baffled girl away into one of the dark hallways.

"Was that really necessary?"

"Well unless you had thought of a different way to rid yourself of those tattering leeches, I don't think so. At least it will explain your occasional disappearances."

"Well I still think we could have come up with something other than.."

He gave her a sarcastic smirk. "Yes, of course, we could have gone for my mother's approach and have the Opera Ghost kidnap you. How would that look?"

She sighed in frustration, he was probably right. Still, she did not care to find out what her grandmother would say! Especially when she would find out the sudden kidnap was not entirely unwelcome. Not unwelcome at all!

"Where are we going now? This road only leads down towards the lake."

"I know. Trust me. And stay behind me, father has reinstalled his traps along here. I would hate for you to drown or break an ankle."

Luca was silent once more as if suddenly bored by their conversation, yet continued his way unwavering towards the shores of the still waters. As they arrived she suddenly understood: a boat of some sorts... And there it was. A light wooden construction she recognised from last year's production of the Odyssey.

"Father stumbled across this on his journeys through the cellars and decided to…borrow it for the time being. Surely with such horrific reviews the play shall not be repeated in the near future."

"And how would you know of those reviews? From what your sister has told me you care nothing for the Opera. And even so, those critics could be utterly in the wrong."

Turning back at her he suddenly realised his comments on the play were interpreted as an attack on her life's work and she was quite put out. So typical for a girl to overreact and twist his words into a different meaning.

"Since we are to infest this building as if we were an omnipotent occurrence, I decided to pick up on my reading about the Opera and its history. I might not know much about theatre as a whole, nor wish for the knowledge, but begging your pardon if six different reporters from highly recommendable newspapers burn a play to the ground their reviews could hardly be written off as a figment of their bias imagination…Mademoiselle. Now if you would be so kind…"

She turned red with anger at his arrogant remarks, huffing before she stepped into the boat and sat staring ahead in grave silence, waiting for him to row them across. As they started their journey however, her amazement at their surroundings would no longer keep her quiet. All those years she had wondered about this passage, and the thrill of finally traveling through ran through her like a warm wine from a very good year, making her senses tingle. She still had not had a chance to get back at Luca for insulting her arts however, and she decided to do so now.

"Well, all this time I have been waiting, wishing to see this passage, only to realise it is clearly a waterway as any other. How silly of me to fawn over it like that."

The blow reached its target, for an icy voice from behind her immediately shot back. "As any other? Are you blind? Have you not noticed the arches, the sculpted figures? The round-off corners so as not to damage the boat? The secret maps hidden in the walls? And pray how many waterways have you seen to draw such a comparison?"

"None, I dare say. But then again, hundreds of people have described your father as nothing more than a deranged lunatic for many years on end. You would not believe the things he was held accountable for. And by your definition the voice of many cannot be wrong, correct?"

"Very well, you seem to have proven your point. Now would you be so kinds as to cease your incessant chattering before the echoes of it give me a headache?"

"Of course." She smirked, and imagined he could clearly hear her chuckles resonating across the arched ceilings yet neither spoke more till they reached the lair and his father was present to serve as a wall between them.

As the boat docked and Erik graciously helped Thérèse to shore, he immediately noticed his son's unusual bad temper. The girl however sat smiling as sweetly as she always did and he knew someone was in great danger to losing their heart.

"How did it go? Is the outside world still in uproar about today's events?"

Luca rolled his eyes. "Indeed, they are truly the most superstitious lot I have ever witnessed. We actually had to come up with a plan to get Tes…Teresa away from her cowardly friends."

The girl rounded back at him. "Don't you dare talk bad about my dearest friends, they are merely scared because they are younger than I and the stagehands frighten them with the most hideous stories! Oh and should my grandmother ask, Monsieur Erik, I hope you will personally take responsibility for your son's kidnapping of me to convince her of my untouched virtue!"

Erik cocked a brow at Luca. "Kidnap?"

Luca threw up his hands in despair. "Well it was either a secret lover or a sudden disappearance by the hands of the infamous Opera Ghost father. Which one would have caused more questions from her friends you think?"

"The lover!" He heard replied in two-fold.

"All my friends will now want to know about whom I am seeing now."

"Whereas in the case of the Opera Ghost we could have gone by your mother's example and make her say she fainted and does not remember a thing."

"Very well, obviously I failed miserably at playing Ghost. Perhaps you could end the suffering to us all and give me a task more suitable for a student in architecture!"

Suddenly Erik remembered Luca's words from before: "I cannot do this by myself, I know nothing of the world." Indeed, he was too quick to forget that he and Thérèse were far more familiar with this world than his son.

"Very well, you are probably right. Would you please go and find that damnable DuChamps character then, see what he is up to? We still need to figure out a way to penetrate his dressing room in any case."

"From what we heard before he is probably doing some penetration of his own by now" came the muttered reply before the boy moved out of sight, causing Thérèse to blush fervently.


	40. The joke's wearing thin

**Hey everyone! Here we go again with the next chapter! I am proud, and a little sad, to announce that after this one only four more chapters wil follow before this story reaches its happy ending! Now don't worry, we'll see plenty of exitement before that, starting right here. I have two more days before I leave on a two week holiday to sunny Crete, so if updates slow down again you'll know why. Bear with me people, and don't forget to review! -x- Lotte.**

An exited moan echoed through the hallway just as a group of ballerina's passed through it. They looked from one to the other, knowing very well what had just happened in that particular dressing room.

Julie snickered at Thérèse. "Sophie had better not show up late or Madame Sabine will have her hide!"

Thérèse nodded vaguely, the situation worrying her more than she thought it would. She had always had a strong dislike for Roger DuChamps, but the fact that he had hurt these people so close to her so badly, was more than she could bare. Monsieur Erik seemed cool and restrained in all of his actions, having safely re-established the myth of the Opera Ghost in everyone's minds, yet she could tell by his eyes that the obvious betrayal his daughter was suffering was eating away at him all the same. It seemed to lure out a darker side of him, eliciting the most evil of tricks and hoaxes from his mind.

Belongings went missing, musical instruments just tuned were awfully off key the very next minute, thumps and scratches were heard along the dimly lit corridors at the weirdest hours and for every joke made an unseen presence seemed to be laughing along in a hollow, echoing chuckle. Not one week had passed before everyone was walking on the tips of their toes, along a chord the Opera Ghost had hung mid air. The only thing missing were the dreaded notes, but the managers flattered themselves only in believing the Ghost had nothing to remark to just yet.

A few brave souls had claimed it was probably an imposter, a man wanting to terrorise the Opera House by imitating the strange happenings from the past, and had gone down to the cellars to investigate. They were shocked to find that the traps that had taken years to find and remove, had all been replaced in the exact same locations only with different triggers altogether, making it sheer impossible to reach further down as the third level without risking serious injuries to oneself. No man could have done this save the ghost himself. And he had surely died from the fire that fateful night…

As the corps de ballet started their warm ups they were joined last minute by Sophie, who indeed received a stern look from their ballet mistress but no more for now. As Roger passed their group he made no attempt to hide the lust in his eyes, gently running his tongue across his lips before trotting off with his friends. Thérèse heard Sophie chuckle just behind her.

"Such a bad boy…" Suddenly she could take no more.

"I do not see how you can pride yourself in the relations you are keeping with that man. Besides the fact that he is a despicable person he is also married. Wed to one of your former friends from the ballet, awaiting his return tonight. How can you sleep at night?"

Sophie's eyes turned cold, as she searched Thérèse's face. "Oh please, spare me. Céline Alighieri was never a friend of mine, or need I remind you I was about to step up to prima before they dragged her out here from Italy? And I do not see how it is my fault she fails to keep her husband satisfied. We all know full well Roger would never have married the little scarecrow had it not been for her money. But seeing as you have quite the little scandal going on yourself I would suggest we refrain from turning into pots and kettles here. Wandering off in the dark with some handsome stagehand, I wonder what your poshy family might have to say of that dear, really…"

Thérèse could feel the eyes of the other ballerina's burn in her back, as she once more cursed Luca for his rash decision. He had not meant to hurt her reputation however, and she was sure Roger DuChamps would not think twice to let go of Sophie should another, better opportunity arise. She could only hope Monsieur Erik had not overheard the ignorant girl's harsh words or there would be hell to pay!

"Well at least the man I keep relations with is an honourable and kind one." She shot back, before Madame Sabine approached them and icily ordered them on stage.

From the back rows of the theatre Luca sat safely hidden in the shadows, watching Thérèse perform. He had overheard her words to Sophie and though perhaps unwise, her courageous words had filled him with a huge amount of respect for the girl. Perhaps he ought to apologise to her for his petty arrogance of yesterday. Much as they always seemed to end in an argument he rather enjoyed their conversations in the dark, and found the girl quite an adapt partner on many a subject. They had discovered that both of them were ardent readers, stuck in the world of their books rather than actually traveling the globe themselves. Thérèse had expressed a wish to join her father on his travels one day, and he found himself longing to go also.

As he looked up again he noticed rehearsals to have ended, and just as he rose to meet back with his father he saw Roger DuChamps purposefully staring after the retreating ballerinas before following them of stage. Only he wasn't after Sophie this time, who was still being lectured by her ballet mistress. So who…? At once he jumped, recalling Thérèse's defense of Céline. This was not good at all!

From the shadows Roger had been listening in on their conversation. He had underestimated the little blonde. Being a Giry, she would of course feel like family to Céline and should the girl ever decide to open her mouth to her "dear cousin" he could be in a lot of trouble. This situation must be dealt with immediately…

Thérèse had just waved goodbye to her friends, who had assumed as much that she wanted to be by herself, when she heard a noise behind her. Thinking it would be Luca coming to whisk her away once more she turned with an annoyed smile. Only no one was there. Just as she continued her walk she was roughly slammed face first towards the wall, causing the air to be pushed from her lungs.

"Well, well, what have we here? A pretty ballerina all by herself? You should be more careful in these halls my dear Tessa, you never know what ghosts might be lurking…"

She quickly recognised the husky whispers of Roger DuChamps, and tried to shrug him off.

"Get off of me you filthy bastard!"

"Tsk, such harsh words coming from such a tiny woman. For tiny you are, you little trollop. You would do best to remember that should you attempt to have a little conversation with my dear Céline anytime soon…"

With that he quickly spun her around, running a hand along her soft curves as the other kept her hands in place behind her.

"You are nothing to me but a toy, a fragile little thing that can be easily disposed of. Talk, and I will make sure your days here are over. Your virtuous reputation will not stand for much longer, ma cherie."

"If you dare touch me I will tell all who wish to know!"

"Brave words my dear, but who do you think they will believe? An honourable, married singer or an ill reputed ballet rat with a mystery lover? I will say you attempted to seduce me, and with Sophie's testimony you will have nothing to fall back on. You will lose when you try to rise against me girl, trust me."

"Really? I recall the last time you attempted to blame an innocent young woman for your twisted evils. That didn't exactly go as you wished it, now did it?"

Both of them spun around to see but the shadow of a young man, slowly walking towards them, his voice laced with anger and contempt.

Roger was temporarily off guard by the third person, wracking his brain as to who he might be. And how would he know of his past?

"Don't tell me, this must be Mademoiselle Valmont's secret lover? If you are truly such an honourable man as she claims you to be you would step into the light where I can see you, you coward."

As the young man eventually did, the look of surprise and shock could only dawn on Roger momentarily before a hard punch to the face made him sink to the floor.

"I will step closer Monsieur, you however do not deserve the light of day." Luca hissed his last words so bitterly that even Thérèse shrank away in fear before finally allowing her tears of fright to fall. Before she knew it Luca's arms encompassed her, gently lifting her from the cold floor to carry her off to a warm and safe place.

"Hush, it's alright now. He cannot hurt you anymore. If anyone is to leave this Opera House it will be him, I assure you. Father will personally see to it after we tell him what has happened."

As he continued to whisper his reassuring words into her blond curls she felt herself drifting off into a comforting sleep, until she was embraced by the lair's cool darkness once more…

As she woke she found herself back home in her own room, her mother sitting by her side, looking worried.

"Maman, what has happened?"

"Monsieur Erik brought you home from the Opera House dearest, he told me what had happened between you and Roger DuChamps. I wish you and grand-mère would have told me about your plans Tessa. God, I thought my heart stopped when they came to bring you here! Things could have gotten a lot more dangerous than the bruise you have now, you know…"

Bruise? She lazily traced her cheek and was cruelly reminded of just how hard she had been thrown into that wall. If Luca hadn't arrived when he did….

"Are Monsieur Erik and Luca still here?" _Say yes, oh please say yes!_

Meg doubted for a second, knowing her daughter would not like what she was about to hear.

"No dearest, they went back to the Opera House, they said they would go and deal with Roger from there. I…I'm sorry my sweet but I have made them promise that they would no longer ask for your assistance in this matter. I cannot stand to think you are out there on your own while someone wishes evil upon you. I hope you understand."

Thérèse nodded weakly, she did understand. But that didn't make the situation any easier. They had come very close to incriminating Roger, which meant they would confront him soon…and be off to Italy again. And the sudden realisation she might never see Luca again hit her harder than Roger had done that very afternoon…

The very next morning as the managers of the Opéra Populaire arrived at their theatre, they found the place in a state of complete shock. No one had had any sleep that night as loud, aggressive organ music had resonated throughout the building, complimented with sorrowful moans. No one could have painted their horror however, on finding an actual note on their desk, written on crisp ivory stationary in the infamous red ink their predecessors had told them of:

_My dear managers,_

_I hope you have enjoyed your peace, for it will end this day. Too long it seems has this beloved palace of the arts missed my guidance, for my awakening has brought me nothing but sorrow. I have decided to grant you a fair chance to correct yourselves, before taking matters into my own hands. If you have studied the journals of your predecessors as closely as I believe you to have done, you will know you would not wish such a fate upon your cast and crew._

_Your orchestra is acceptable but lack however the proper guidance to make their talents truly excel. I am sure many a more talented conductor is wandering the streets of our beloved city as we speak, searching employment in an honourable establishment as the Populaire. Seek him! Find him!_

_Your Prima Donna, though strong in voice, should moderate her body mass as much as her despicable demands and tantrums. I do not stand for such flaws in character messieurs, either she learns to behave like the professional she claims to be or I will personally tutor her. _

_But the matter which pains my heart most is that of the loose morals among your staff. Harlots portraying to be sweet girls toss up their skirts to any fashionable actor or stagehand who wishes to put his hands on her, while the innocent women of true virtue are bullied and threatened to the very edge of their sanity. This cannot continue, I assure you this will not continue. I have hereby included a list of the people found wanton. I suggest you let go of these foul beings as soon as may be for if not I would gladly do it for you. They will then, however, meet their maker to stand trial for their crimes._

_I remain, messieurs, your obedient servant._

_O.G._

The list, among many, contained the names of Sophie Lenoir and Roger DuChamps…


	41. Twisted every way

**OK, so I was torn here: Would you guys prefer to have another chapter before having to miss me for two entire weeks, or would you hunt me down on fair Crete for the cliffie that this new chapter contained? I decided to play by your curiosity and post it anyways, evil cliffie or not it really is a nice and long one! See that light in front of you? That's the end of the tunnel dawning for our sweet Céline! Or...the gates of hell opening to receive Roger, whatever makes you guys happy. Enjoy, see you all in two weeks! (grabs suitcase and plane ticket and runs off to the aiport) -x- Lotte.**

The house by the lake sat silent, as none of its guests felt much need for talking that morning. Erik and Luca were both exhausted from the massive haunting they had performed that night, playing their recorded organ concerts from just the right angles down the cellars, making sure the sound would resonate the building as if coming from everywhere and nowhere. To any outsider it had surely seemed as if a madman were playing his music in continuous torture, as if some great burden was troubling him. The paper and ink had been easily acquired through the Valmont house, and Erik's heartfelt despise for his listed condemned made the note quite an easy one to compose.

Their scheme, however daunting, seemed to have been successful. Right after breakfast the managers had called for a general meeting at the grand auditorium and had stated somewhat flatly that due to financial problems they were forced to let go of some of their staff. As the names of the unfortunate were read however, it did not seem to make sense to anyone. These people came from all different departments and were surely not the least talented amongst the entirety of the cast and crew. One whisper had grown to two, three, a murmur of complaint, growing to an angry roar from Roger as his name was called.

"Financial problems you say? I dare say your problems will only increase in releasing me! Was it not mere weeks ago messieurs, you promised to look into my soloist position? Why this sudden change of heart? And what of OUR financial problems now that we are to be unemployed?"

Monsieur Roulaux and Monsieur Firmin jr. looked from one to the other, sweat appearing on their brow. Indeed they would rather cut off their arm then to send off one of their finest tenors but if not, it seemed that the Opera Ghost would do just that…and more.

Their nervosity sparked a sudden gloom of understanding, as one of the stagehands slowly rose from his chair.

"The Ghost…it's the Ghost who is forcing you isn't it? What evil did he threaten you with this time? Would he toss down another chandelier? What!"

Firmin cleared his throat, just wishing this whole ordeal to be done with as soon as possible. "That is exactly the problem my good man, the Ghost seems not to wish evil upon this house, rather…on the very people on this list. We have no other choice, in view of your own safety, but to let you go. Rest assured you will be compensated accordingly and letters of good conduct will be…"

At that the rafters over the stage started moaning in protest, as if a sudden breeze had swept through the old wooden boardwalks.

"No excuses…no deals…no mercy for the wicked!" It seemed but a whisper, yet with such a cold intensity as to put the fright of death into everyone's hearts. Luca smirked at himself while making his way down from the rafters. He counted himself lucky to be in on the plot, for though he had never considered himself weak hearted, he could easily imagine how his father's deep and echoing voice could scare the wits out of any unsuspected bystander.

And now they sat, side by side, willing themselves to finish at least some of the breakfast Marie had kindly brought in for them whilst on her way to the manager's offices to inform them of her granddaughter's absence due to a flue. Both men had been genuinely shocked at what had happened to Thérèse. Both blamed themselves for not having foreseen the potential danger she was in, and ached at the memory of Meg's face when informing her of all that had happened. She had been very kind and understanding, more so than they perhaps deserved, yet begged them to leave Thérèse far from their schemes from here on. A promise they were both happy to make. Erik however was no fool, and he knew full well Luca's pensive silence held a world of hurt in it.

Willing himself up, he gently nudged the boy's shoulder. "I suppose we should prepare to leave. After this sudden turn in events I imagine DuChamps will return home shortly. Should he decide to make a stop at a café first I would not want Céline to have to face him on her own. God knows what other evils that boy has up his sleeve!"

Luca only nodded, yet said nothing as he obediently started to gather their meager possessions.

Erik looked around the lair once more. How ironic. Just as the place started to feel like home again, he would lay it back down to sleep. He closed his eyes and allowed the silence to encompass him once more. So many memories lingered here, painful ones, beautiful ones… He could clearly remember the day he first arrived here, tired of waiting around for Marie to finish her classes and curious to see more of his newly adopted home. His first impression had been equal to Luca's, one of fear. It was not long however before he had begun to realise how fear could be used as a weapon of its own, for if he feared this place so would others. Fear would mean peace from the world, fear would mean no questions, no interruptions to his silent reveries, his road through grief, his climb back up, his path to knowledge. The scared, scarred boy had slowly but steadily transformed himself into a cold, calculative, reclusive genius. And all the while his only witnesses, his only audience, were these walls and these rippling waters.

"Father?" He spun round, the proof of his drastically changed life standing before him.

"You're going to miss this, aren't you? The lair I mean. The feeling of belonging here?"

For a moment Erik didn't know how to answer. His entire being yearned to return to Italy, to its warmth, to her warmth… Yet he knew this place would never cease its silent cries towards him. It had been both his heaven and his hell, and he was unsure as to how to store it away in his memory yet.

"Yes, I suppose I will. It holds its spell over me, this entire theatre does. It was born through me as I was born through it. Nourished by it and torn apart by it. But its soul always lay with its inhabitants, and there is no one left here I will be loathe to part from. I have taken from it what I love, now let it find herself a new lover."

And with that he sank their boat and slowly started making his way up to the stables.

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Roger sat at the bar of his favorite café, safely stowed away deep in the heart of Montmartre, drinking away his final pay and pining his losses. Where exactly had his life gone so terribly wrong? He smirked, _face it boy your life has been a big mess from the start!_

His mother had been a gentle, naïve girl training to be a singer at the Opera House. Having secured a position in the chorus, she had obediently played the tiniest of parts hoping to grow into the larger ones with time. Until a quicker solution had presented itself. One of the Patrons of the Opéra Populaire, a young Baron whose family originated from the Loire Valley, had taken a fancy to her and had promised her the world…for a certain price. His mother, blindly believing his promises of love and marriage, had followed by his every command. Until he had suddenly declared he must return to his family estate, where his betrothed would be waiting to marry him. With a simple promise of "calling on her again should he be in town next" he rode off into the sunset, leaving his dear pregnant mother to fend for herself.

A few years later, his wife having died in her childbed, he suddenly reappeared in their lives, and seemed happy and grateful with the existence of his son. He again promised "Madame" DuChamps as his mother was now known, taking on the part of a widow to keep up appearances, the world. They would marry, Roger would be his rightful heir, the boy would want for nothing…

That last promise was the only one he ever kept, for Roger did continue to receive ample funding for a proper tuition and warm clothes on his back. The rightful recognition of his noble descent however, never came. And so he had concluded, he would use what little means he did have, the ample talents and good looks that seemed to have been bestowed on him, to his own advantage. If society wouldn't give him what was rightfully his, he would simply find ways to take it for himself. And by God, did it work!

In a certain way that was what had attracted him to Céline in the first place. The enticing fairy princess that whirled her way around him on stage, yet always seemed to carry such a heavy burden upon her shoulders. They shared a common history, only she had been ever so much more fortunate. Her mother was actually made Vicomtesse, her father holding true to his promises. And even after the Vicomte's demise there had been a new father and a new family for her to belong to.

And still she dared to complain about not fitting in, her dreams unfulfilled…The nerve of the little wench! And so his love had turned to hate, his good intentions into evil plans. He would fulfill her dreams for her, and she in return would make him a rich man. He would buy an estate and dote on his poor mother for the rest of her life, never again would worry cloud her mind! She would have a caring daughter-in-law and perhaps in time ample grandchildren to look after. No one would lose in this scenario…right?

And now…now money, no career, a whining wife and…a sudden trembling hand upon his shoulder. Turning around in his chair, careful not to lose his balance in his already lowered state of consciousness, he looked straight into the startled face of young Sophie Lenoir.

"Mademoiselle Lenoir, what an honour. Have you come to join me in my lament? Come sit and drink with me to the health of the Opera Ghost, for ruining my life and my career and making sure no one even attempted to stop him."

"Lower your voice and quit your complaints, you are not the only one damaged here! Roger, oh Roger please stop this and look at me, we need to talk. I'm so scared my darling, I do not know what to do…"

Roger lifted his head once more, not liking the tone of her voice and a soft towing bell beginning to chime in the back of his mind.

"Roger…I'm pregnant with your child."

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Céline DuChamps sat quietly humming in her chair by the fireplace, waiting for Roger to come home. His favorite dish was waiting for him in the kitchen for she knew rehearsals were going rather badly of late and he was sure to come home in a terrible state. By now she had learned how to cure this however, with a good plate of food, a fine bottle of wine and ample lace on her soft silk lingerie. She wondered how much longer they would be able to enjoy their quiet life together, before perhaps a baby would arrive to bring joy to their lives. On one side she was desperately longing for that moment, on the other she was selfishly enjoying her sole possession of her husband.

For once in her life she felt important, the mistress of her own household, and a good one at that. Her house was clean and beautifully furnished, her husband was happy and successful and clearly doted on her. Life simply couldn't be more grand…and how she wished to share her happiness with her family! True, they had had their fall outs in the past, but surely they could find a way to get past all that? Much as the memories of that fateful night pained her, she had never given up on an eventual reconciliation. Especially after it was made so perfectly clear her family here in France wanted nothing to do with her.

A sudden knock on the door shook her from her reverie. She frowned, surely Roger had not forgotten his keys? She got up to open, only to stumble away from the door in shock.

"Father? Luca? How…what are you doing here? Is everyone alright? Maman…"

"Your family is in excellent health, I assure you. I believe there are many matters at hand that require an explanation my dear, however your hallway seems not the proper place to do so. So what do you say to allowing us entry to your humble abode, Madame DuChamps?"

At least her father's sneering cold sarcasm hadn't changed. It was beautiful and frightening all at once though, to see them again. Not knowing well how to respond, she nodded silently and bid them inside.

"I must say I am quite surprised to see you both. God, it seems so long ago since…well, won't you sit then?"

She noticed how both her father and Luca remained standing. They looked worn and tired, yet admiring of her home.

"You seem well Céline. I mean…you are well, I trust?"

She smiled at her younger brother. "Yes, I am perfectly well, I assure you. My husband makes sure I lack nothing, indeed I..."

"Yes, well that is a quality he seems to be bestowing on many these days. Tell me Madame, where might your husband be at this moment?"

She narrowed her eyes, was her father testing her or did he intend to confront Roger directly? "I suppose he will be home from the Opera soon, once rehearsals are done. Why?"

Her father grimaced bitterly. "So, I suppose he has not told you all rehearsals have come to a screeching hold since yesterday, and that in fact he is as of today no longer employed at the infamous Opéra Populaire?"

It pained him to see the colour drain from Céline's face, but he knew only the straight forward approach would wake her up from her sad world of false dreams.

"It cannot be…Roger is one of their finest Tenors! The managers would never have let him leave! What reason was given?"

"Improper behaviour amongst his fellow cast members." The verdict came plain and clear.

"I'm not sure I understand…"

"I am referring to the loose morals your husband, as well as a group of other unfortunates were displaying Céline. I am talking of acts he should not have indulged in while his wife sat waiting for him back home. Acts that young Sophie Lenoir should not have agreed to knowing her lover was a married man…"

I was fortunate Céline was already seated, or she would no doubt have sunken to the floor at that very moment, her body trembling in shock and disbelief.

"No, no it cannot be. You're lying, you only wish to come between Roger and me. Why must you torment me like this? Why can't I be left in peace?"

Luca felt sorry for his sister's pain, yet knew better than to interrupt his father right now. He knew these revelations would break his sister's heart, and realised at the same time there was no other was to go about this.

"Still convinced my sole purpose is to hurt and threaten you, are you? Do you not think I would sell my soul to be able to bring you better news? Alas, there is non to be had Céline, if you cannot believe my word please feel free to seek out Mademoiselle Lenoir for yourself. I am sure she would be happy to relate how she and Roger have enjoyed each other's company since before your illustrious marriage. I daresay in a few months the proof of their joyful situation will show amply, unless Roger will keep his promise to her and pay for her timely abortion…THAT is the state of your marriage my dear, THAT is your husband's true character. The very thing I have feared from the start and have sought to protect you from!"

By this time Céline heard no more of his words. She silently stood up, no doubt with the intention to run from the apparent truth, yet stumbled but two paces before her legs gave way underneath her and darkness surrounded her vision…

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The door of the apartment rattled as Roger came stumbling in, confused at not finding his wife running up to him in squealing delight. The house seemed cold and dark, the smell of a ruined dinner coming from the kitchen.

"Céline? Dammit Céline, where are you? I have no taste for your games!"

"Apparently Monsieur, she no longer cared for yours either…" came the cold reply.

As he spun around on unsteady legs he suddenly faced the person he least wished to see, his posture straight and unabiding, his eyes flashing angrily behind the shadows of his mask.

"Well, if it isn't my damned father-in-law! A good evening to you sir! So I assume I was correct in encountering your beloved son at the Populaire? At least I now know I have not gone mad entirely…I trust you have received my letter? Have you come to surrender your money to me at last?"

Erik flashed him a cold, calculated smile. "If you are referring to my daughter's share of my inheritance monsieur, I fear you are in for a long wait. Much as you seem to have scholared yourself, I believe the law is not one of your strongest subjects. You see, my final will and testament, as well as all arrangements with regard to earlier settlements upon my children, were drawn up in Italy. And as it seems, one of those tiny little lines hidden somewhere in the middle of those endless pages of rules and regulations, states that in order for a child to withdraw from her funds, her marriage must be settled under Italian law as well, and with the full consent of both parents. Are you seeing what I am getting at Monsieur? I would not know of your knowledge of geography, but I regret to inform you that Switzerland has not been confiscated by Italy just yet…and I believe we have already established the match was not entirely agreed upon by all parties involved now, was it?"

Even in his clouded state of mind Roger knew full well what these tidings meant: another dead lead. No money from de Chagny, no money from Alighieri. They were flat broke, only now he had to share the little money he did own with a second person, and maybe even more in the future…

"Well that's a fine mess I have ended up in, isn't it? That little bitch set me up quite properly, hell the entire scheme has cost me quite the little fortune! And what do I get in return? An obedient wife and lover? Why pay her to get what I want, when I can receive those pleasures for free elsewhere? If I had known she would prove to be this useless I could have saved us all a lot of trouble and send her home by herself. Good riddance I dare say…"

Céline felt her breath catch in her throat, and only Luca's strong presence pulling her close could prevent her from screaming out loud. Oh God, what had she ever done to deserve such a nightmare? Why her, why him, why now?

After she had fainted they had brought her back into the bedroom, Luca guarding over her as Erik sat and waited for Roger's return. His drunkenness had proved to be a blessing, as it made his tongue deliciously loose. Wasn't it said that children and drunks always spoke truth? And now they sat behind the door, eavesdropping like little children on the dreadful conversation going on in the living room.

"So, what now to be done Monsieur? No money, no job, not even a letter of recommendation from your former employers. An illegitimate child on its way and God knows what state your wife may be in. Not a position any man would envy you for I suppose."

Roger shook his head as if confused, sinking down in a chair. "This was not supposed to have happened. How was I to know what had befallen between the Chagny's and my precious mother-in-law? If she had been a wise woman she would have spread her legs to that Francois you know. She would have had it made for the rest of her life, for Céline…for me."

The next moment he was thrown across the room and flung against a wall, the other man's temper now flaring with a vengeance.

"Watch you tongue boy, I will remind you you are speaking of my beloved and your wife's mother. I will no longer stand by idly and watch you place the blame for any of your faults onto innocent shoulders. We have many debts to settle, you and I. Or have you forgotten your brutal attack on my other child? The nightmares it has given her? The grief in losing her sister's trust? The wreckage you have caused upon our family? I have worked too hard to build this peace in my life DuChamps, and I'll be damned to let a petty bastard's boy like yourself take it from me. You could not have picked a worse adversary at this point, believe me."

"Stop, father please stop, no more…I can't take it…please…let's just go home to maman and forget this nightmare ever happened…" The sudden weak voice of Céline filled the room. She had no longer been able to keep quiet and out of sight, and wanted nothing more but for the angry voices to die and leave her.

Erik seemed torn between his daughter's pain and her husband's punishment. Deciding not to stoop down to Roger's level he slowly backed away, turning towards Céline while attempting at something similar to a reassuring smile. She was right, they would have this marriage annulled and then they would be on their way home, where life was safe and warm. Roger's next words however, made him forget all his good intentions.

"Don't even think you can just walk out on me like that you harlot! How you enjoyed my attentions and presents and flattery, how you moaned my name in pleasure as I took you, over and over again! And what did I receive in return? Absolutely nothing you worthless little twit! Just look at you cowering there in a corner, damaged goods. No respectable man will ever want you now, that at least will be my comfort!"

The next moment he was back against the wall, his head beginning to hurt from the force of the repeated blows received. The dead look he now received was enough to make him realise the man restraining him here cared nothing for his life or his death, and his next words made that all too clear.

"Bois de Boulogne, lover's lane, dawn. Two men, two pistols, two bullets. Bring a second if you will. You might wish to have a friend present to carry your rotting corpse away from that place for I surely will not bother."

Roger shot him an amused smile before extending his hand. "Likewise."

And with that they parted, Céline following her father and brother in silence, carrying only the small bag she had brought from Italy.

**Just so you know, voting polls for the outcome of this duel are open as of tonight, I'm sure my dear sis DawnStag (get reading on her stuff people!) will be more that happy to act as my bookie! -x- L.**


	42. Our games are at an end

**Yes! I'm back! After a wonderful and I daresay very well deserved vacation I returned to find the most stunning amount of reviews waiting for me, thank you so much to all of you! For those of you who have been biting their nails frantically the last few weeks wondering if I would be cruel enough to sarcifice Erik to the greater good...here's your chance to find out. For those of you who hate evil cliffies: don't read unaccompanied, for this is truly the cruelest one I've done so far. I will not be held responsable for any health damage occuring from this plotline, just so you know. Keep those hopsital bills to yourself my darlings! Enjoy and please let me know what you think! -x- Lotte.**

"You're not going to get yourself shot are you?"

Luca did not even look up as the tapping of her pointe shoes had already betrayed Thérèse's presence. He sat polishing the guns they were to take once more, even though André Valmont had already assured them they were clean as could be and his father had spent half the night redoing them himself.

"I am to be second only, Teresa. Hand out the guns, hold my father's jacket and make sure no one plays foul. With any luck he will shoot DuChamps' guts out in moments and we can all go home safe and sound."

He had expected her to react to the notion of spilled guts in outrage but again the petite blonde surprised him, quietly sitting down next to him and gently touching his arm, stilling his hands.

"You will return here afterwards, will you not? To say goodbye I mean?"

For a second he just looked at her, pondering the look of helplessness in her eyes and finding himself wishing to return, to stay even. Watching her being attacked by Roger DuChamps at the Opera that afternoon had broken his heart in a way he had not believed possible and the feel of her slender form in his arms, her warm breath tickling the column of his throat had been pure heaven. Was this the type of affection his sisters had always warned him about? The love he would surely succumb to one day whether wishing it or not?

Before he realised it his hand rose to her golden locks, gently pulling her closer before capturing her lips in a soft kiss. She did not pull away but moved closer, encouraging his actions with a barely audible sigh of content. Thérèse had expected something oddly clumsy, herself sorely lacking any experience of the sort and Luca never having seemed interested in the subject of love or flirtation. The kiss he was bestowing on her now however, was far from cautious or inexperienced. It was soft, coaxing, yet very demanding, soaring in a passion she had never imagined to be buried underneath his serious and distant composure. It was the type of kiss every girl would wish to be her first, and she promised herself to one day demand of him however he obtained such skills and exactly how many kissing partners it had required!

"If you please my little Giry…I fear I must steal your suitor from you for now. I would hate for us to miss our appointment with Monsieur DuChamps."

Upon hearing Erik's solemn voice cut through the otherwise silent drawing room the two adolescents hastily pulled apart, Thérèse blushing profusely and Luca carefully avoiding eye contact, thus missing the hint of amusement that lay hidden there.

"I can assure you I have every intention of delivering him back to you unharmed before breakfast however…" Inappropriate as it may be, Erik felt the need for a little jest to prevent him from losing his mind entirely.

After he had cleaned his guns that night, his usual insomnia catching up with him again, he had gone up to Céline's room and sat by her side. She looked so pale and fragile, the tracks of freshly shed tears on her face, a shadow from the lively, carefree young woman he had welcomed back home only a few weeks ago. He knew it all too well, the feeling of loosing everything you hold dear. Of painting fairytales in your head only to find them shattered by the harsh reality of life.

"I will return your fairytales to you my little angel, soon your world of darkness will be filled with light again…" She had turned in his arms as he spoke, a slip of a smile appearing on her lips as if she had heard him. He had sat humming to her as he had for so many years, until the first traces of light betrayed the coming of dawn and his eminent appointment with his cursed son-in-law.

There had been a time when meetings such as these would not have troubled him in the least. A time when he loved nothing and feared nothing, least of all his own demise. But times had changed, life had changed. Destiny had tossed his self-designed structure of pain and destruction aside and had replaced it with a warm circle of love and affection, that unfortunately asked as much of him as it gave. He knew he could not fail for the sake of his family. And so, with a new resolve, he put of his jacket and straightened his cravat.

"May the Lord give me strength and the Angels of Vengeance guide my hand…"

Quickly crossing himself, daring to let his mind wander back to Venice only for a moment, he strode out of the room to meet his opponent.

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The morning air was already warm with the anticipation of a beautiful summer day as both parties encountered each other at the Bois. Lovers Grove, famous for its isolated and thus private location at the very edge of the park, was nowadays more often used for ending quarrels than stealing secret kisses from ones lover. The gendarmes had long given up on their attempts to check on these grounds, unwilling to make a bad figure with the rich noblemen who frequented the Grove for either activity. As Roger DuChamps arrived, late as was to be expected, he encountered his father- and brother-in-law awaiting him with equal stoic appearance. The arrogant looking young man he had towed along as second was one of his fellow chorus members from the Populaire. A man, Erik knew, who had barely escaped an execution via the Opera Ghost's dreaded list himself.

"You're late boy." Erik could not help but vent some of his annoyance in his clipped words.

"Are you thus eager to meet your Maker my dearest papa? Do not worry, I have no intention of making you wait long. My wife is well I trust? Had a good night's sleep? I shall be very upset indeed should she be returned to me in any less than impeccable shape of course…"

The sudden bustle of weaponry next to him, Luca quickly busying himself in unpacking, reminded him all too clear of why they were here and he knew he could not let Roger reach his purpose in upsetting him. His sudden bursts of anger had always been his biggest weakness, and in a matter of precision such as a duel it could very well cost him his life.

The seconds shook hands and Stéphane, as the young man was introduced as, appeared equally ill at ease on these grounds as Luca was. Both seemed determined to do their utter least to encourage any further hostilities and were eager to end the whole affair as quick as may be. Normally the challenged party would have chosen their weapon, but Erik had correctly assumed Roger had not the means nor the appropriate knowledge to do so, and so the guns were selected. André had proudly boasted his own brother had most recently used them while challenging a man who had dared lay a finger on his betrothed, and Erik had been happy to hear they had at least been more than wall decoration in a family as seemingly peaceful as the Valmont's.

"Right then, let's be done with this. Both parties shall turn from each other and walk ten paces exactly, according to my count. Upon having reached your final position you shall both turn and fire one shot in your opponent's direction. You shall do so on the exact moment of your turning, only a coward would await his opponent's shot first. The result of this duel will be decided by the severeness of your injuries or lack thereof by myself and my honourable colleague." Stéphane hastily rattled on before turning towards Luca, who silently nodded in agreement.

As Erik started to loosen his jacket and vest, handing them to Luca, he suddenly looked him deep in the eye. "No matter the outcome Luca, your sister will not stay here. Promise me you will take her back to Italy and have this charade of a marriage annulled should I fail in my task. That is all that matters to me."

It was the first time Luca dared to think of the fact that his father might not survive this day, and it terrified him. "I shall promise you anything you like, though I doubt I shall have to fulfill any of my vows any time soon. We will deal with this, and we will return home together. As a family."

Erik slowly nodded as he finally added his cravat to the stack of clothes laid aside. "You are right…as a family." And with that he took his position next to Roger DuChamps.

Roger was blinking at the bright sunlight, attempting to fight the bouts of nausea his hangover brought on. What was he doing here? No good could come of this any way you looked at it. If he won, he would have to find a way to deal with his hysterical, and basically useless wife and pregnant mistress, and if he lost…well he would be dead then. He had no doubts his father-in-law was an excellent marksman, yet Stéphane had just managed to spike his fear by growing sickeningly pale by the sight of him.

"That face…that mask…it is the face my father told me of."

Roger had tugged at his cravat irritated. "What are you talking about? Yes, so he wears a mask. What of it?"

"He wears a mask, is a brilliant architect and composer…and just as his daughter seems in danger the Opera Ghost returns to haunt the Populaire… Can't you see what you have brought upon us you idiot? You have brought the Phantom of the Opera back to Paris!"

Roger lifted a brow: "You mean that madman who killed your father and burned the House to the ground for that ungrateful little Ope.." Suddenly it all made sense, the story of Christine Alighieri's earlier marriage to the Vicomte de Chagny, their abhorrence of Paris…Good God, he had triggered the wrath of the infamous Opera Ghost himself! A man who kills without a thought, no mercy or remorse…He would have to act quickly or he would end up as dead as the father of poor Stéphane Bouquet!

As Stéphane started counting loudly, the two men slowly moved apart, their seconds following their every move to look out for foul play. No other noise was heard, each man on the grounds enraptured in his own thoughts. As they neared their final paces the tension was almost tangible, and Luca's eyes shifted quickly from one man to the other, now a near twenty metres apart from one another, as they set their final step.

"Ten!"

Gravel shifted under feet, and in a thundering blaze the two guns went off almost simultaneously, a cloud of smoke and gunpowder hiding all results from view as a sorrowful cry cut through the air. The two men still stood facing each other, one with hate and a hint of victory in his eyes, the other surprised and defeated, none sure where the cry had immersed from. Slowly blood came trickling down from the wounded man's throat, where the bullet had cut through his air pipe before rushing straight through the main artery next to it. Breathing slowly became impossible, talking was useless as the heavy blood loss drained the energy from his slumping body.

His opponent slowly loomed over him, a sarcastic smile drawing upon his face as he seemed to be enjoying the damage done.

"How fitting, for a singer and whisperer of lies to loose your life to your most important asset. I did warn you not to make an enemy of me, Monsieur DuChamps. I will make sure not to send your wife any word of greeting, you deserve no such pleasure after all the pleasures you have already stolen from her."

As he saw the boy sinking away further and further in his battle with death he slowly laid his hands across his chest before cautiously closing his eyes.

"You go and meet your maker now and see what he will make of your crimes."

And with that he turned on his heel, ready to leave as it finally dawned on him who had cried out. On the ground along the path the two young seconds sat, Stéphane hovering over Luca in a frightful panic.

"Monsieur, if you please…" Luca's white shirt was stained in blood, and the boy no longer seemed awake to notice it…


	43. Home is where the heart is

**Alright, alright, enough with the death threats already! Yeh, so I took a little unexpected turn in events, so what? You didn't actually think I'd let Luca die right? Tessa would have my hide for it! So...here's the next, and...dare I say it? LAST chapter of this story! Yes, the end has come! Well, not really, cause there's an epilogue waiting for you to be read right after this one, and since they're so connected to eachother I decided to upload them together, isn't that nice? I hope you will enjoy and that I will see many of you again when I start posting my new story in a bit, which will not be POTO but very well worth reading in any case, especially for those Gerry Butler fans out there! Enjoy and please lemme know what you think! -x- Lotte.**

A dark blurriness surrounded him. Voices from afar, attempting to pull him back from whatever depths he had sank to. Hands touching, pressing at his shoulder, sending shockwaves of pain through his shivering body. The finest of needle pricks…somehow the hot trickle of blood seemed to have stopped. A cold cloth on his forehead, making him gasp as his eyes finally fluttered open again. His father's worried face, looking down on him in relief as his steady hands cautiously finished the last of the bandages. Then a sob on the opposite side of the bed, coming from the person he had feared never to see again…

"I thought I had told you not to get shot? Do you have any idea how frightened I have been?"

He smirked, if he hadn't been wounded this badly she would no doubt have pounded in on him for dear life.

"I suppose you had been better off telling Monsieur DuChamps that…"

Thérèse frowned at him, then at his father as she replaced the cloth on his forehead.

"Is he always this much of a nuisance when sick, Monsieur Erik?"

Erik simply shrugged his shoulders. "I would have been able to provide you with an answer my dear, had he ever been sick. Apparently it requiers a bullet to finally take him down."

Now it was Luca's turn to frown. "I would very much appreciate it if everyone would stop speaking of me as if I were not here and proceed by telling me what has happened."

Erik lifted his brow. "Well in case you hadn't noticed yet, you have obtained a nasty bullet wound to your right shoulder. I suppose Roger DuChamps was still suffering the effects of his overindulgence in alcoholic beverages from last night, and spun around at me too quickly. Instead of a straight aim his arm wandered off to the side. He could have hit either you or young Monsieur Bouquet…I suppose it just wasn't your lucky day this time."

"And DuChamps?"

His father seemed to falter for a moment before continuing: "Dead. Hit in the throat, ironically enough. Had my aim been as clear as I had wished it he would have had a blow to the heart and his death would have been much quicker…Your father's getting old, I guess."

"He did not deserve a quick death papa. A slow and agonising process is all I wished upon him. For what he did to me…to Aurora…to our family…and now my little brother."

All turned around as Céline slowly entered the bedroom. Strangely enough she seemed very calm and reserved, as if the whole ordeal had finally shaken her from her docile state and returned her liveliness to her.

Thérèse moved from the bed so as to allow Céline to take her place by Luca's side. For a moment they just sat there, holding hands, Céline nervously glancing from her wounded brother to her caring father.

"I am truly sorry you know. For everything. I have said and done such…horrible things, I do not know how to ever make amends…and now this. God, to think he might have killed you papa, or Luca! I would never have recovered, knowing you had died because of me." Her throat squeezed tight with tears and she could speak no further. She felt her father quietly moving to her side of the bed before taking her into his arms, shushing her gently.

"I have risked my life for many more a useless cause than you, my little angel. I would have died happily knowing it would have been for your health and happiness. But I didn't. You children are stuck with me for some time yet, I fear. Now, we will let your brother rest and write maman a long letter about our happy conclusion of the matter, and tell her how soon we will be home to her. How does that sound to you?"

Céline wiped at her tears impatiently, as she fervently nodded at her father. For he was her father. And no one would ever hear her speak otherwise again. And so they walked out, allowing Luca to slip back into peaceful slumber at the feel of Thérèse's hand running through his hair.

---------------------------------------------

"Signora, a letter has come from Parigi! From the Maestro!" Christine's head whipped around as Franca ran into the garden, Nicole close on her heels. Over the years, the three women had grown thick as blood and any piece of news from Paris was heartily welcomed.

Knowing all too well how it felt to be widowed at a young age, and not wishing such a fate upon her beloved friend twice, Franca had been relieved to see the letter addressed in the Maestro's impatient yet elegant hand. Nicole's first and only thought was towards the girl she had helped raise into a young woman, dreading the fate she had encountered. Having three sons herself, she had never stopped seeing Céline as the daughter she had secretly wished for.

The three of them sank down in the grass, as Christine hurriedly broke the wax seal and raced her eyes over the letter's content. It was brief, and obviously written in great haste, yet it told her all she had hoped to hear.

_Paris, le 3ième Juin 1895._

_Ma chère Christine,_

_Please forgive me for refraining from writing so long. I trust you will know however, that there has not been a moment you have been from my mind and my dreams. But I shall not bore you with my trifle words of affection, for my reasons for writing are far more important. _

_Our ordeal seems to have come to an end. Monsieur Roger DuChamps has been appropriately dealt with and our darling daughter is safely back under my protective wing. We are preparing our return to Venice as I write, and hope to depart tomorrow morning after breakfast. With the current gentle summer weather assisting us, I expect to be back by your side at Palazzo Persico within the week. Please know that I will know no rest till then, and that it was most certainly the first and last time I shall ever allow any matter to have us separated this long._

_Your loving and devoted husband._

_Erik._

_P.S. Ma chère Maman, _

_A quick word from your daughter to tell you how it joys my heart to be able to return to you all. How I have missed your love and your guidance! I cannot begin to comprehend how blind I have been in entrusting my heart and my virtue to such a foul being as my -now departed- husband. Papa and Luca have been so kind in coming to my aid; I shall never have sufficient word to ever thank them for their strength of heart and mind, and their generousity towards me. Papa assures me he shall speak to Father Domenico with regard to the annulment of my wedding vows and all shall be well in the end, save for the loss of confidence I have obtained with regard to my own better judgement._

_Please convey my deepest feelings of love and affection to my siblings, whom I hope shall prove equally forgiving to the errors in my behaviour of late._

_I remain, your loving daughter,_

_Céline._

Christine finally allowed her breath to escape her, as well as her tears of relief. The letter before her showed her an image of two equally drained and broken people, people she loved dearly, yet they were alive and well and by now on their way back to Italy.

"They are coming home. All is well and they will be home before the week is out!"

At that the other two women responded equally relieved and all returned to the house for preparations. As she went in search of her other children Christine whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens, eager to hold her angels close again soon.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Breakfast had been a grand affair, a farewell party between close friends who might not see each other again for a very long time. The Valmont's family physician had come by to look at Luca's shoulder, giving him a tonic of laudanum to assure he would be able to travel without much hindrance to his injuries. Assuming there could only be one reason for such a young man to obtain a bullet wound like that, he had merely winked and asked whether the young lady in question had proved to be worth his efforts, and whether he had left his opponent worse off.

As the adults saw to the loading of the carriage, Luca and Thérèse stood quietly in the shade of the trees down the lawn, unsure of what to say now that their cautiously blooming relationship was so suddenly interrupted by their cruel separation.

"Are you sure you will be alright? Italy is such a long way to travel, and the roads can be so bumpy at times…"

"I have my laudanum and an ample amount of pillows, Teresa. Perhaps I could ask Céline to elaborate on her views on the latest Paris fashions and I shall be asleep in no time, I assure you."

"Tessa, I told you it was Tessa. No man shall kiss me like you did and insist on my full name. I will not have it."

Luca chuckled at the girl's persistence, she was inches short of stomping her foot at him. "Very well, I could never deny you any request, my beautiful Tessa…"

She swallowed hard at his gentle words and quickly looked away, not wanting him to see her fervent blushing nor the impending tears in her eyes.

"Will you write to me when you are home? For I intend to write you as often as my work will allow me, and I would be very sad not to receive a reply to my efforts…that is if you would like me to write you of course, for if not I would understand, I mean…"

Her nervous ramblings were pleasantly interrupted as he pressed his lips to hers as he had done the day before, and she could once again feel herself melting away at his touch. As he heard their parents approach he carefully let go of her again, encircling her slender waist with his left arm as he looked down at her.

"I would be very disappointed not to hear from you, cara. And I will promise to reply to any letter you wish to bestow upon me."

He seemed to doubt for a moment, quickly looking up to see how much precious time would be left, before burying his hand in her golden curls once more.

"We shall be married one day, you and I. And once we are, I shall never leave your side again. We will travel the world and see places beyond our wildest imagination…"

Not sure how to respond to such a remark she simply nodded. Was this a proposal? Did her approval mean they were betrothed now? Suddenly she no longer cared, for official or not she already knew her heart could never belong to another.

She hid in his arms one last time before quickly pulling away in fear of hurting his shoulder, straightening the sling on his arm for the fifth time in equally as many minutes.

"I will not see you again, will I?" Marie's quiet voice called him back from his reverie as he had been enjoying the sight of his son's happiness.

It had not been a question, more like a simple fact presented; reminding him their farewell would probably be a final one. Never in his living days would he set foot on French soil again, as sure as he knew she would never leave it. They would return to their distant comforting friendship, an occasional letter, and the reassurance the other would be well.

"No, I suppose not. I shall write you when we reach Venice."

"I would like that very much, thank you."

"Marie…"

"I know, I know, you're welcome. Now go, your children are tired and in need of their mother's care. Be safe, mon frère." And with that she gave him a quick embrace before turning around and walking back into the house without a second glance.

He turned to see both his children patiently waiting for him by the carriage, Luca with his wounded arm and Céline in an obvious state of insomnia, still torturing herself for her faults day and night.

"Just look at the pair of you. I'll have quite some explaining to do to your poor mother when we get home." He muttered semi-angrily before helping both of them inside.

As the carriage pulled into movement Luca dozed off almost immediately, the smile across his face leaving no doubt as to what, or who, he was dreaming of.

Céline cuddled up against her father, pulling her cloak around herself a little tighter.

"Papa?"

"Yes angel?"

"Will you tell me of when we first traveled to Italy? When you came to France to help maman and I? After…my father had died?"

An affectionate smile played across Erik's lips. Ever since she was little Céline had been enthralled by the story, her father resembling a knight in shining armour in her romantic fantasies.

"Very well then. It was a misty winter's eve as I sat in my library reading, when Renzo walked in with your grand-mère's letter…"

He had not even reached Christine yet in the story when he felt her slip off into slumber, dreaming of better days…

------------------------------------------------------------

Christine had been up since six in the morning, anxiously staring at the horizon for any sign of her family. She had received a note from Erik from Vicenza the previous afternoon, saying that they would indeed be arriving today as he had anticipated. She could not deny this separation of a mere three weeks had eaten away at her as painfully as the five years of her first marriage had. Her very being seemed to feed from Erik's omnipotent presence. She once more looked around her room, Le Camere Segrete that had long ago given up their secrets. The embodiment of his love for her, her safe haven. Here they had fought, they had loved so passionately, they had sung, they had brought their children onto this world…here their souls had melted into one, never to be parted again no matter how great the distance, and it eased her worried heart to know that her Angel would always find his way back here.

She had just started reading his earlier letters to keep her mind occupied for a while, as the ratteling of a carriage was heard coming through the gates and the entire Palazzo seemed to jump to life. Gathering her skirts she ran from her room, down the stairs, through the hallway and onto the courtyard. The tattering of feet betrayed Aurora, Matteo and Giulia following close behind her, but all she could focus on right now were the three wary figures slowly making their way down from the carriage. Within moments she held her eldest daughter in her arms, sobs wracking through the girl's body from the relief of being home again.

"Maman, oh maman I am so glad to be home, I am so sorry, for everything, I should never…He…Oh God…"

As Christine hushed her she noticed Luca slowly approaching her, his step slightly faltering and his arm hanging from a sling.

"My sweet boy, what have you done to yourself?"

Her eyes immediately shot up to Erik's face, full of questions yet his tired eyes assured her he would tell her all in good time.

Céline by now had walked on towards Aurora, the sisters eying each other cautiously for a moment before falling into each others arms. Erik sighed, much as he rejoiced in the reunion of his family all these whimpering girls were getting the better of him now. He was once again saved by his little girl, softly tugging his sleeve.

"Was Paris beautiful papa?" He gently swung her up into his arms and kissed her forehead.

"No my sweet, there was not much beauty to be found I'm afraid. I did however get you your present, but I fear I will need to unpack first."

Upon turning towards the house he noticed Matteo looking completely lost, his sisters run off by themselves and his mother having ushered his wounded brother inside.

"And how did the household fare in my absence, Signore Alighieri?"

Matteo immediately straightened his shoulders, proud of the confidence his father held in him.

"All was well. There were a few messages from the building committee at the Law Faculty, but I informed them you were away on urgent business to Paris and they would simply have to wait till you returned. I…sort of mentioned it had to do with the Opera House…I suppose they are under the impression you had been asked to review the building."

Erik nodded, leading his youngest children inside with him. "Very well, I knew I could rely on you."

---------------------------------------------------------

That night, as the house had finally fallen quiet, Erik crossed the familiar hallway towards Christine's chambers. He was tired and wary and in need of comfort, and went to seek it at the one place that had never left him wanting. He had barely closed the door behind him as Christine was by his side, taking his large hands in her smaller ones and silently leading him towards the bedroom. It wasn't until she gently kissed him and started unbuttoning his shirt, that Erik suddenly broke down beneath her touch.

"Never again, I promised you…I would not kill again and now my promises have proved empty. I aimed and shot, I watched the bullet enter his body, and I watched with a sickening pleasure as the life drained out of him while minutes went by. I did not even notice my own child bleeding behind me, as he was looked after by a boy whose father was lost to my hands as well. Why can't these demons let me be, why must my life consist of this endless string of violence and suffering? Why must I hear those lamenting voices in my mind by day and by night? Please make them stop Christine, I cannot manage this life without you. You have no idea how much I have yearned for your love and your guidance…"

His words reminded her of a cold winter's morning at the cemetary long ago, when her despair had all but consumed her and he had whispered similar words in her ear, only then to heal her aching heart. She knew her voice had the ability to haunt him as much as his could her, and so she decided to try and wake him from his nightmares by song, with the only words seeming appropriate right now.

"No more talk of darkness, forget your wide-eyed fears;  
I'm here.

Nothing can harm you, my touch will warm and calm you;  
Let me be your freedom, let moonlight dry your tears;  
I'm here.

With you beside you, to love you and to guide you…"

His shaking form relaxed under her spell, his tears went dry as he listened to her soothing words. Never had her hands stilled their movements on his body, showing him the truth of her words through her touch.

"Your voice…so pure…the child of my creation…"

Christine nodded. "As is my entire being. Your architecture, your music, our children…Your heart and soul and hands have created such miracles, why allow those to wither compared to the few you were forced to destroy?"

He looked up at her insecurely. "I have made you live with a murderer Christine…"

She took his face in her hands, slipping off his mask as she had done on the evening of her final declaration of love. No more nightmares, no more fears.

"I made my own choice Erik. You brought me back from the edge of insanity, returned my life to me when you had every reason to be resentful. You had no obligations towards me. I got to know the man that loved me, the man I grew to love in return, and I have no regrets. I never had. No man is without fault my love, especially not one who was never offered a fair chance at life to begin with. We receive what Destiny has in store for us, and deal with it as best we can. That shall be our truth…"

Erik nodded slowly, his hands now coming into action to return the loving affection she was showing him. "That shall be our truth…"

And with their lovemaking that night, his haunting shadows finally disappeared. For good this time.

_**quoted song by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Ryce, with a few convenient word changes by moi. LM1010**_


	44. Destiny fulfilled an Epilogue

**To all my dear readers, beta's and otherwise involved third parties:**

**Words can't express what an amazing experience this has been for me. From my first cautiously written chapters, solely for my own entertainment, to my dear friend Jenny taking the time out to read and beta for me, encouraging me to get this story out there, to all you wonderful people reviewing for me, giving me the self-confidence I needed to believe in my abilities as a writer. To my sweet friend Ani for graciously providing the faces to my characters, never complaining when I requested a change here or there and making them real to me. To Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber for the gift of this amazing tale and the cast and crew of the 2004 movie for pushing me over the edge and towards my computer. Finally, to my very best friend and sister in crime Beth aka DawnStag for all her encouragement, constructive criticism and amazing eye for detail. For understanding my writer's blocks, for reassuring me they'd disappear again (which of course they always did), for lending me her muses, for giving me her strength when Lord knows she could have used all of it for herself at that time! Blud! Dude, you rock, seriously! ;)**

**Nothing remains for me to say except: Enjoy, and hopefully see you all again with future projects! -x- Lotte.**

**Destiny Fulfilled - an Epilogue**

Everything that has a beginning, must consequently know an end. Like the sun rises and sets, like a rose blooms and then withers away, like a baby being born, living its life before dying an old man or woman. It is the way of the world and thus, the way of this tale.

But what of the people, you say? The handsome heroes and courageous princesses we have encountered here? What of their lives and their joys and their fears? You would not imagine me leaving you here without the answers to your questions, do you?

Firstly, I believe you shall be relieved to hear Luca Alighieri recovered from his injuries in full. Yet not before having tutored himself in writing left-handed, so he could write to his sweetheart as soon as may be, telling her of his well being and his desire to hold her near again. A prompt reply from Paris arrived, stating the girl's similar emotions, and a dramatically romantic affair by letter was established until the time had arrived for Thérèse to accompany her father on his travels to Italy. They had not been reunited for more than five minutes before a formal proposal of marriage was made, happily accepted by the bride as well as her family. And so, to the great amusement of his two older siblings, Luca Alighieri was wed to his Tessa at the tender age of eighteen. His father however seemed not in the least surprised, stating that once an Alighieri man lost his heart he would not falter to act upon those affections immediately. Luca kept his promise to his radiant young wife, traveling along the Orient with her to learn of its marvelous architecture and absorb its colours, smells, its haunting music and exuberant way of life before returning to Palazzo Persico as its heir.

The next unexpected piece of happiness came from Céline, who one day shyly approached her father to inform him of her wish to remarry. Having stayed aloof after her ordeal with DuChamps, spending many hours in Father Domenico's comforting presence, praying and contemplating on her life she had one day caught the eye of Bernardo Pisani, Erik's talented yet equally shy apprentice. Without anyone ever having noticed, the two had quietly, cautiously begun to meet for walks and boat rides, and had even met up for one of Aurora's performances once, gently holding hands in the darkness of the theatre. She had of course, in time, acquainted him with the tales of her past, upon which her young suitor had been close to tears. Vowing to never hold any of it against her, and cursing her late husband for his deceit, he had promptly asked for her hand in marriage to prove her "blemished" state had no affect on his undying love for her. With her first marriage being annulled on terms of maltreatment and deceitful intentions, there were no objections to have them wed mere months after her brother was.

And what of our Prima Donna, you would say? Well, Aurora had grown up to being just that. With age her voice continued to grow, earning her invitations from many foreign Opera Houses. Seeing as it proved impossible for Erik to accompany her on all her travels, a business manager was found to handle her affairs and report back to Palazzo Persico, at which Erik would on occasion send out correspondence to the House in question as to how he preferred his diva to be handled. What Erik had not anticipated however, was how Aurora would come to love her manager good enough to accept his proposal of marriage. The man being twenty years her senior, and a widower at that, Erik at first declared the very notion preposterous, until a brief glance from his wife silenced him into remembering his own actions where love be concerned and he quickly gave them his blessing. After all, the match was a good one for neither were in a hurry to settle down or start a family, both enjoying their career and each other's company immensely, as they ought.

Matteo too, came to life at the theatre. Complimenting his skills on the violin with an extraordinary talent for composing, he patiently worked his way up the ranks of the Opera Classicale until he was rewarded with the position of House composer and assistant to the House's conductor Signore Ravalli, who had been like a second father to him where his career be concerned. When the old man eventually had to retire due to arthritis, he was quick to introduce Matteo as his successor to the Board, who under Erik's gentle guidance of course accepted. Matteo never married, though his bed was never empty. Jokingly being called "Casanova's reincarnation", he had cleverly learned to use his skills and dashing good looks to swoon his female colleagues at the Opera, much to his mother's disapproval. It seemed however that she, too, could never stay upset with him for long. A song or a melody would arrive for her by letter, as her son's apology for the error in his ways, and by the time she had completed them on the piano her anger had already been quite forgotten.

So happy endings for all? No, not quite I must admit. I did warn you that all beginnings must have an end, even the blissful union of Erik and Christine Alighieri. Erik had always vowed to her he would never make her a widow twice in one lifetime, and to the mixed feelings of all involved, he managed to keep his promise. Christine had never had a very strong health, easily catching colds and influenzas during the rain filled Venice winters. Yet in the end it proved not her lungs, but her heart to fail her, simply slipping away from under Erik's gentle care during a high bout of fever. The house lost some of it's radiance that day, as all gathered at the Santa Maria Formosa to celebrate her life and find a way to cope with the loss of her. Children missing their mother, grandchildren having to forego on getting to know her whilst growing up…and a devastated husband who in truth, died with her that very day.

For though my father would never admit it to any living soul I, his youngest child, could see the emptiness in his eyes, the slumping of his strong shoulders, and the absence of music in his genius mind. He had allowed my mother to depart before him, courageously claiming she would not have managed to continue her life without him, but could he? What was the worth of his remaining days without his Angel of Music to warm his heart and his soul? And so he fled to his loving memories of her, devoting hours and hours of his time sitting by himself in his library, recounting the days of her childhood, their early romance, their days of marriage, with no one hearing him but me. Their story intrigued me, as a daughter and as the authoress I had by now become.

And so I laid aside the attempts at my second novel, already earning a handsome sum off my first, published of course under a male synonym to my father's great annoyance, and decided to record their past. My father would sometimes raise his head in surprise, upon seeing me sitting beside him late at night, making careful notes of his every word in the beautiful notebook he had brought me so many years ago from Paris, before shaking his head at me lovingly. "That will be quite enough for today, my little Christine. You should not tire yourself so. Surely your eyes will not fare well in such bad light." Whether he merely meant it as an endearing nickname, or whether the strong resemblance I hold to my mother truly haunted him, I will never know. I do know however that my presence seemed to console him in some way, and thus I became his confidant, his caretaker and silent shadow.

Did I mind? Would I not have preferred the bliss of married life like my siblings over looking after a dying man? I did not, for as a creative soul I could not think of any better way to spend my days than to learn from his great mind, and the hardships he had had to suffer in spite, and because of it. Man and Angel, Artist and Madman, Creator and Destroyer, Savior and Murderer, Father and Husband. It takes a great mind to allow all these beings to coexist within oneself. And it takes a great soul to accept all these different sides of one man in ones arms, unfaltering and unconditionally like my mother did.

And so you see, this is a happy ending after all. The tale of two beings, two souls entwined within one another so intricately that no force on this great earth could tear them apart save God Himself, will now live on through my writings. My only regret is that my father did not live to bare witness to its publishing. Would he have approved? He would probably have wondered at my interest, stating he had no choice in his path. For it was designed for him by Destiny. The Destiny of Souls entwined. That was his truth…

**In loving memory of my best friend, my spiritual guide, my mentor,**

**My amazing father: Jan Omvlee (1941 - 2004)**

"**_Passing bells and sculpted angels  
Cold and monumental  
Seem for you the wrong companions  
You were warm and gentle"_**


End file.
